LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


GIFT    OF 


Class 


_^^ 


.. 


QUEER   LITTLE   PEOPLE 


BY 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 

TICKNOR    AND     FIELDS. 
1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

TICKNOR     AND     FIELDS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS:  WELCH,  BIGELOW,  &  Co., 
CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 

THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS ' 

THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE                                *  14 

THE  HISTORY  OF  Tip-Top 26 

Miss  KATY-DID  AND  Miss  CRICKET 39 

MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF 48 

THE  SQUIRRELS  THAT  LIVE  IN  A  HOUSE 57 

HUM,  THE  SON  OF  Buz 67 

OUR  COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS — -«        •       .80 

OUR  DOGS 91 

DOGS  AND  CATS I4I 

AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES IS2 

AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES 158 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  AND  HIS  DOGS 167 

COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN  . 176 


235941 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

A  STORY. 


there  was  a  nice  young  hen  that  we  will  call  Mrs. 
Feathertop.     She  was  a  hen  of  most  excellent  family, 
being  a  direct  descendant  of  the  Bolton  Grays,  and  as  pretty 
a  young  fowl  as  you  should  wish  to  see  of  a  summer's  day. 
She  was,  moreover,  as  fortunately  situated  in  life  as  it  was 
i 


2  '  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

possible  for  a  hen  to  be.  She  was  bought  by  young  Master 
Fred  Little  John,  with  four  or  five  family  connections  of 
hers,  and  a  lively  young  cock,  who  was  held  to  be  as  brisk 
a  scratcher  and  as  capable  a  head  of  a  family  as  any  half- 
dozen  sensible  hens  could  desire. 

I  can't  say  that  at  first  Mrs.  Feathertop  was  a  very  sen- 
sible hen.  She  was  very  pretty  and  lively,  to  be  sure, 
and  a  great  favorite  with  Master  Bolton  Gray  Cock,  on 
account  of  her  bright  eyes,  her  finely  shaded  feathers,  and 
certain  saucy  dashing  ways  that  she  had,  which  seemed 
greatly  to  take  his  fancy.  But  old  Mrs.  Scratchard,  living 
in  the  neighboring  yard,  assured  all  the  neighborhood  that 
Gray  Cock  was  a  fool  for  thinking  so  much  of  that  flighty 
young  thing,  —  that  she  had  not  the  smallest  notion  how 
to  get  on  in  life,  and  thought  of  nothing  in  the  world  but 
her  own  pretty  feathers.  "Wait  till  she  comes  to  have 
chickens,"  said  Mrs.  Scratchard.  "Then  you  will  see.  I 
have  brought  up  ten  broods  myself,  —  as  likely  and  respecta- 
ble chickens  as  ever  were  a  blessing  to  society,  —  and  I  think 
I  ought  to  know$  a  good  hatcher  and  brooder  when  I  see 
her ;  and  I  know  that  fine  piece  of  trumpery,  with  her  white 
feathers  tipped  with  gray,  never  will  come  down  to  family 
life.  She  scratch  for  chickens !  Bless  me,  she  never  did 
anything  in  all  her  days  but  run  round  and  eat  the  worms 
which  somebody  else  scratched  up  for  her. 

When    Master   Bolton    Gray  heard   this  he  crowed  very 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  3 

loudly,  like  a  cock  of  spirit,  and  declared  that  old  Mrs. 
Scratchard  was  envious,  because  she  had  lost  all  her  own 
tail-feathers,  and  looked  more  like  a  worn-out  old  feather- 
duster  than  a  respectable  hen,  and  that  therefore  she  was 
filled  with  sheer  envy  of  anybody  that  was  young  and 
pretty.  So  young  Mrs.  Feathertop  cackled  gay  defiance  at 
her  busy  rubbishy  neighbor,  as  she  sunned  herself  under  the 
bushes  on  fine  June  afternoons. 

Now  Master  Fred  Little  John  had  been  allowed  to  have 
these  hens  by  his  mamma  on  the  condition  that  he  would  build 
their  house  himself,  and  take  all  the  care  of  it ;  and,  to  do 
Master  Fred  justice,  he  executed  the  job  in  a  small  way  quite 
creditably.  He  chose  a  sunny  sloping  bank  covered  with  a 
thick  growth  of  bushes,  and  erected  there  a  nice  little  hen- 
house, with  two  glass  windows,  a  little  door,  and  a  good  pole 
for  his  family  to  roost  on.  He  made,  moreover,  a  row  of  nice 
little  boxes  with  hay  in  them  for  nests,  and  he  bought  three 
or  four  little  smooth  white  china  eggs  to  put  in  them,  so  that, 
when  his  hens  did  lay,  he  might  carry  off  their  eggs  without 
their  being  missed.  This  hen-house  stood  in  a  little  grove 
that  sloped  down  to  a  wide  river,  just  where  there  was  a  little 
cove  which  reached  almost  to  the  hen-house. 

This  situation  inspired  one  of  Master  Fred's  boy  advisers 
with  a  new  scheme  in  relation  to  his  poultry  enterprise. 
"Hullo!  I  say,  Fred,"  said  Tom  Seymour,  "you  ought  to  raise 
ducks,  —  you  Ve  got  a  capital  place  for  ducks  there." 


4  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

"  Yes,  —  but  I  Ve  bought  kens,  you  see,"  said  Freddy  ; 
"  so  it 's  no  use  trying." 

"  No  use !  Of  course  there  is !  Just  as  if  your  hens  could  n't 
hatch  ducks'  eggs.  Now  you  just  wait  till  one  of  your  hens 
wants  to  set,  and  you  put  ducks'  eggs  under  her,  and  you  '11 
have  a  family  of  ducks  in  a  twinkling.  You  can  buy  ducks' 
eggs,  a  plenty,  of  old  Sam  under  the  hill ;  he  always  has 
hens  hatch  his  ducks." 

So  Freddy  thought  it  would  be  a  good  experiment,  and 
informed  his  mother  the  next  morning  that  he  intended  to 
furnish  the  ducks  for  the  next  Christmas  dinner  ;  and  when 
she  wondered  how  he  was  to  come  by  them,  he  said,  mys- 
teriously, "  O,  I  will  show  you  how ! "  but  did  not  further 
explain  himself.  The  next  day  he  went  with  Tom  Seymour, 
and  made  a  trade  with  old  Sam,  and  gave  him  a  middle- 
aged  jack-knife  for  eight  of  his  ducks'  eggs.  Sam,  by  the 
by,  was  a  woolly-headed  old  negro  man,  who  lived  by  the 
pond  hard  by,  and  who  had  long  cast  envying  eyes  on  Fred's 
jack-knife,  because  it  was  of  extra-fine  steel,  having  been  a 
Christmas  present  the  year  before.  But  Fred  knew  very 
well  there  were  any  number  more  of  jack-knives  where  that 
came  from,  and  that,  in  order  to  get  a  hew  one,  he  must 
dispose  of  the  old ;  so  he  made  the  trade  and  came  home 
rejoicing. 

Now  about  this  time  Mrs.  Feathertop,  having  laid  her 
eggs  daily  with  great  credit  to  herself,  notwithstanding  Mrs. 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  5 

• 

Scratchard's  predictions,  began  to  find  herself  suddenly  at- 
tacked with  nervous  symptoms.  She  lost  her  gay  spirits, 
grew  dumpish  and  morose,  stuck  up  her  feathers  in  a  bris- 
tling way,  and  pecked  at  her  neighbors  if  they  did  so  much 
as  look  at  her.  Master  Gray  Cock  was  greatly  concerned, 
and  went  to  old  Doctor  Peppercorn,  who  looked  solemn,  and 
recommended  an  infusion  of  angle-worms,  and  said  he  would 
look  in  on  the  patient  twice  a  day  till  she  was  better. 

"  Gracious  me,  Gray  Cock ! "  said  old  Goody  Kertarkut, 
who  had  been  lolling  at  the  corner  as  he  passed,  "a'n't  you 
a  fool  ?  —  cocks  always  are  fools.  Don't  you  know  what 's 
the  matter  with  your  wife  ?  She  wants  to  set,  —  that 's  all ; 
and  you  just  let  her  set !  A  fiddlestick  for  Doctor  Pepper- 
corn !  Why,  any  good  old  hen  that  has  brought  up  a"  family 
knows  more  than  a  doctor  about  such  things.  You  just  go 
home  and  tell  her  to  set,  if  she  wants  to,  and  behave  her- 
self" 

When  Gray  Cock  came  home,  he  found  that  Master  Freddy 
had  been  before  him,  and  established  Mrs.  Feathertop  upon 
eight  nice  eggs,  where  she  was  sitting  in  gloomy  grandeur. 
He  tried  to  make  a  little  affable  conversation  with  her,  and 
to  relate  his  interview  with  the  doctor  and  Goody  Kertar- 
kut, but  she  was  morose  and  sullen,  and  only  pecked  at 
him  now  and  then  in  a  very  sharp,  unpleasant  way ;  so 
after  a  few  more  efforts  to  make  himself  agreeable,  he  left 
her,  and  went  out  promenading  with  the  captivating  Mrs. 


6  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

Red  Comb,  a  charming  young  Spanish  widow,  who  had  just 
been  imported  into  the  neighboring  yard. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  said  he,  "you  Ve  no  idea  how  cross  my 
wife  is." 

"  O  you  horrid  creature  ! "  said  Mrs.  Red  Comb  ;  "  how 
little  you  feel  for  the  weaknesses  of  us  poor  hens  !  " 

"  On  my  word,  ma'am,"  said  Gray  Cock,  "  you  do  me  in- 
justice. But  when  a  hen  gives  way  to  temper,  ma'am,  and 
no  longer  meets  her  husband  with  a  smile,  —  when  she  even 
pecks  at  him  whom  she  is  bound  to  honor  and  obey  — " 

"Horrid  monster!  talking  of  obedience!  I  should  say,  sir, 
you  came  straight  from  Turkey ! "  and  Mrs.  Red  Comb  tossed 
her  head  with  a  most  bewitching  air,  and  pretended  to  run 
away,  and  old  Mrs.  Scrat chard  looked  out  of  her  coop  and 
called  to  Goody  Kertarkut,  — 

"Look  how  Mr.  Gray  Cock  is  flirting  with  that  widow. 
I  always  knew  she  was  a  baggage." 

"And  his  poor  wife  left  at  home  alone,"  said  Goody  Ker- 
tarkut. "  It 's  the  way  with  'em  all !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Dame  Scratchard,  "  she  '11  know  what 
real  life  is  now,  and  she  won't  go  about  holding  her  head 
so  high,  and  looking  down  on  her  practical  neighbors  that 
have  raised  families." 

"  Poor  thing,  what  '11  she  do  with  a  family  ? "  said  Goody 
Kertarkut. 

"Well,  what  business  have  such  young  flirts  to  get  mar- 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  / 

ried  ? "  said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  I  don't  expect  she  '11  raise 
a  single  chick ;  and  there  's  Gray  Cock  flirting  about,  fine 
as  ever.  Folks  did  n't  do  so  when  I  was  young.  I  'm  sure 
my  husband  knew  what  treatment  a  setting  hen  ought  to 
have,  —  poor  old  Long  Spur,  —  he  never  minded  a  peck  or 
so  now  and  then.  I  must  say  these  modern  fowls  a'n't  what 
fowls  used  to  be." 

Meanwhile  the  sun  rose  and  set,  and  Master  Fred  was 
almost  the  only  friend  and  associate  of  poor  little  Mrs.  Feath- 
ertop,  whom  he  fed  daily  with  meal  and  water,  and  only  in- 
terrupted her  sad  reflections  by  pulling  her  up  occasionally 
to  see  how  the  eggs  were  coming  on. 

At  last,  "  Peep,  peep,  peep ! "  began  to  be  heard  in  the  nest, 
and  one  little  downy  head  after  another  poked  forth  from 
under  the  feathers,  surveying  the  world  with  round,  bright, 
winking  eyes  ;  and  gradually  the  brood  were  hatched,  and 
Mrs.  Feathertop  arose,  a  proud  and  happy  mother,  with  all 
the  bustling,  scratching,  care-taking  instincts  of  family-life 
warm  within  her  breast.  She  clucked  and  scratched,  and 
cuddled  the  little  downy  bits  of  things  as  handily  and  dis- 
creetly as  a  seven-year-old  hen  could  have  done,  exciting 
thereby  the  wonder  of  the  community. 

Master  Gray  Cock  came  home  in  high  spirits,  and  com- 
plimented her  ;  told  her  she  was  looking  charmingly  once 
more,  and  said,  "  Very  well,  very  nice ! "  as  he  surveyed  the 
young  brood.  So  that  Mrs.  Feathertop  began  to  feel  the 


8  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

world  going  well  with  her,  —  when  suddenly  in  came  Dame 
Scratchard  and  Goody  Kertarkut  to  make  a  morning  call. 

"  Let 's  see  the  chicks,"  said  Dame  Scratchard. 

"  Goodness  me,"  said  Goody  Kertarkut,  "  what  a  likeness 
to  their  dear  papa  ! " 

"  Well,  but  bless  me,  what 's  the  matter  with  their  bills  ? " 
said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  Why,  my  dear,  these  chicks  are 
deformed  !  I  'm  sorry  for  you,  my  dear,  but  it 's  all  the  result 
of  your  inexperience ;  you  ought  to  have  eaten  pebble-stones 
with  your  meal  when  you  were  setting.  Don't  you  see, 
Dame  Kertarkut,  what  bills  they  have?  That'll  increase, 
and  they'll  be  frightful!" 

"  What  shall  I  do  ? "  said  Mrs.  Feathertop,  now  greatly 
alarmed. 

"Nothing,  as  I  know  of,"  said  Dame  Scratchard,  "since 
you  did  n't  come  to  me  before  you  set.  I  could  have  told 
you  all  about  it.  Maybe  it  won't  kill  'em,  but  they  '11  al- 
ways be  deformed." 

And  so  the  gossips  departed,  leaving  a  sting  under  the 
pin-feathers  of  the  poor  little  hen  mamma,  who  began  to 
see  that  her  darlings  had  curious  little  spoon-bills,  different 
from  her  own,  and  to  worry  and  fret  about  it. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  to  her  spouse,  "do  get  Dr.  Pepper- 
corn to  come  in  and  look  at  their  bills,  and  see  if  anything 
can  be  done." 

"Dr.  Peppercorn  came  in,  and  put  on  a  monstrous  pair 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  9 

of  spectacles,  and  said,  "  Hum  !  Ha  !  Extraordinary  case,  — 
very  singular  !  " 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it,  Doctor  ? "  said  both 
parents,  in  a  breath. 

"  I  Ve  read  of  such  cases.  It 's  a  calcareous  enlargement 
of  the  vascular  bony  tissue,  threatening  ossification,"  said 
the  Doctor. 

"  O,  dreadful !  —  can  it  be  possible  ? "  shrieked  both  parents. 
"  Can  anything  be  done  ? " 

"  Well,  I  should  recommend  a  daily  lotion  made  of  mosqui- 
toes' horns  and  bicarbonate  of  frogs'  toes,  together  with  a 
powder,  to  be  taken  morning  and  night,  of  muriate  of  fleas. 
One  thing  you  must  be  careful  about :  they  must  never  wet 
their  feet,  nor  drink  any  water." 

"  Dear  me,  Doctor,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do,  for  they 
seem  to  have  a  particular  fancy  for  getting  into  water." 

"Yes,  a  morbid  tendency  often  found  in  these  cases  of 
bony  tumification  of  the  vascular  tissue  of  the  mouth ;  but 
you  must  resist  it,  ma'am,  as  their  life  depends  upon  it " ;  — 
and  with  that  Dr.  Peppercorn  glared  gloomily  on  the  young 
ducks,  who  were  stealthily  poking  the  objectionable  little 
spoon-bills  out  from  under  their  mother's  feathers. 

After  this  poor  Mrs.  Feathertop  led  a  weary  life  of  it ;  for 
the  young  fry  were  as  healthy  and  enterprising  a  brood  of 
young  ducks  as  ever  carried  saucepans  on  the  end  of  their 
noses,  and  they  most  utterly  set  themselves  against  the 


IO  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

Doctor's  prescriptions,  murmured  at  the  muriate  of  fleas 
and  the  bicarbonate  of  frogs'  toes,  and  took  every  oppor- 
tunity to  waddle  their  little  ways  down  to  the  mud  and 
water  which  was  in  their  near  vicinity.  So  their  bills 
grew  larger  and  larger,  as  did  the  rest  of  their  bodies, 
and  family  government  grew  weaker  and  weaker. 

"You'll  wear  me  out,  children,  you  certainly  will,"  said 
poor  Mrs.  Feathertop. 

"  You  '11  go  to  destruction,  —  do  ye  hear  ?  "  said  Master 
Gray  Cock. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  frights  as  poor  Mrs.  Feathertop 
has  got  ? "  said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  I  knew  what  would 
come  of  her  family,  —  all  deformed,  and  with  a  dreadful 
sort  of  madness,  which  makes  them  love  to  shovel  mud 
with  those  shocking  spoon-bills  of  theirs." 

"It's  a  kind  of  idiocy,"  said  Goody  Kertarkut.  "Poor 
things !  they  can't  be  kept  from  the  water,  nor  made  to 
take  powders,  and  so  they  get  worse  and  worse." 

"  I  understand  it 's  affecting  their  feet  so  that  they  can't 
walk,  and  a  dreadful  sort  of  net  is  growing  between  their 
toes ;  what  a  shocking  visitation  ! " 

"  She  brought  it  on  herself,"  said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  Why 
did  n't  she  come  to  me  before  she  set  ?  She  was  always 
an  upstart,  self-conceited  thing,  but  I  'm  sure  I  pity  her." 

Meanwhile  the  young  ducks  throve  apace.  Their  necks 
grew  glossy,  like  changeable  green  and  gold  satin,  and 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  II 

though  they  would  not  take  the  doctor's  medicine,  and 
would  waddle  in  the  mud  and  water,  —  for  which  they  al- 
ways felt  themselves  to  be  very  naughty  ducks,  —  yet  they 
grew  quite .  vigorous  and  hearty.  At  last  one  day  the 
whole  little  tribe  waddled  off  down  to  the  Kank  of  the 
river.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  river  was  dancing 
and  dimpling  and  winking  as  the  little  breezes  shook  the 
trees  that  hung  over  it. 

"  Well,"  said  the  biggest  of  the  little  ducks,  rt  in  spite  of 
Dr.  Peppercorn,  I  can't  help  longing  for  the  water.  I  don't 
believe  it  is  going  to  hurt  me,  —  at  any  rate,  here  goes " ; 
—  and  in  he  plumped,  and  in  went  every  duck  after  him, 
and  they  threw  out  their  great  brown  feet  as  cleverly  as 
if  they  had  taken  rowing  lessons  all  their  lives,  and  sailed 
off  on  the  river,  away,  away  among  the  ferns,  under  the 
pink  azalias,  through  reeds  and  rushes,  and  arrow-heads 
and  pickerel-weed,  the  happiest  ducks  that  ever  were  born ; 
and  soon  they  were  quite  out  of  sight. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Feathertop,  this  is  a  dispensation ! "  said 
Mrs.  Scratchard.  "Your  children  are  all  drowned  at  last, 
just  as  I  knew  they'd  be.  The  old  music-teacher,  Master 
Bullfrog,  that  lives  down  in  Water-Dock  Lane,  saw  'em  all 
plump  madly  into  the  water  together  this  morning  ;  that 's 
what  comes  of  not  knowing  how  to  bring  up  a  family." 

Mrs.  Feathertop  gave  only  one  shriek  and  fainted  dead 
away,  and  was  carried  home  on  a  cabbage-leaf,  and  Mr. 


12  THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS. 

Gray  Cock  was  sent  for,  where  he  was  waiting  on  Mrs. 
Red  Comb  through  the  squash-vines. 

"  It 's  a  serious  time  in  your  family,  sir,"  said  Goody 
Kertarkut,  "and  you  ought  to  be  at  home  supporting 
your  wife.  Send  for  Doctor  Peppercorn  without  delay." 

Now  as  the  case  was  a  very  dreadful  one,  Doctor  Pep- 
percorn called  a  council  from  the  barn-yard  of  the  Squire, 
two  miles  off,  and  a  brisk  young  Doctor  Partlett  appeared, 
in  a  fine  suit  of  brown  and  gold,  with  tail-feathers  like 
meteors.  A  fine  young  fellow  he  was,  lately  from  Paris, 
with  all  the  modern  scientific  improvements  fresh  in  his 
head. 

When  he  had  listened  to  the  whole  story,  he  clapped  his 
spur  into  the  ground,  and  leaning  back,  laughed  so  loud 
that  all  the  cocks  in  the  neighborhood  crowed. 

Mrs.  Feathertop  rose  up  out  of  her  swoon,  and  Mr.  Gray 
Cock  was  greatly  enraged. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  such  behavior  in  the  house 
of  mourning  ? " 

"  My  dear  sir,  pardon  me,  —  but  there  is  no  occasion  for 
mourning.  My  dear  madam,  let  me  congratulate  you. 
There  is  no  harm  done.  The  simple  matter  is,  dear 
madam,  you  have  been  under  a  hallucination  all  along. 
The  neighborhood  and  my  learned  friend  the  doctor  have 
all  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  that  these  children  of 
yours  were  hens  at  all.  They  are  ducks,  ma'am,  evidently 
ducks,  and  very  finely  formed  ducks  I  dare  say." 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS.  13 

At  this  moment  a  quack  was  heard,  and  at  a  distance 
the  whole  tribe  were  seen  coming  waddling  home,  their 
feathers  gleaming  in  green  and  gold,  and  they  themselves 
in  high  good  spirits. 

"  Such  a  splendid  day  as  we  have  had ! "  they  all  cried 
in  a  breath.  "And  we  know  now  how  to  get  our  own 
living ;  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves  in  future,  so  you 
need  have  no  further  trouble  with  us." 

"Madam,"  said  the  doctor,  making  a  bow  with  an  air 
which  displayed  his  tail-feathers  to  advantage,  "let  me  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  charming  family  you  have  raised.  A 
finer  brood  of  young,  healthy  ducks  I  never  saw.  Give 
claw,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said,  addressing  the  elder  son. 
"In  our  barn-yard  no  family  is  more  respected  than  that 
of  the  ducks." 

And  so  Madam  Feathertop  came  off  glorious  at  last ; 
and  when  after  this  the  ducks  used  to  go  swimming  up 
and  down  the  river  like  so  many  nabobs  among  the  ad- 
miring hens,  Doctor  Peppercorn  used  to  look  after  them 
and  say,  "  Ah !  I  had  the  care  of  their  infancy ! "  and  Mr. 
Gray  Cock  and  his  wife  used  to  say,  "It  was  our  system 
of  education  did  that!" 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE: 

TV  /T  R.  and  Mrs.  Nutcracker  were  as  respectable  a  pair  of 
*•*•»•  squirrels  as  ever  wore  gray  brushes  over  their  backs. 
They  were  animals  of  a  settled  and  serious  turn  of  mind, 
not  disposed  to  run  after  vanities  and  novelties,  but  filling 
their  station  in  life  with  prudence  and  sobriety.  Nut- 
cracker Lodge  was  a  hole  in  a  sturdy  old  chestnut  over- 
hanging a  shady  dell,  and  was  held  to  be  as  respectably 
kept  an  establishment  as  there  was  in  the  whole  forest. 
Even  Miss  Jenny  Wren,  the  greatest  gossip  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, never  found  anything  to  criticise  in  its  arrange- 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       15 

ments,  and  old  Parson  Too-whit,  a  venerable  owl  who  inhab- 
ited a  branch  somewhat  more  exalted,  as  became  his  pro- 
fession, was  in  the  habit  of  saving  himself  much  trouble  in 
his  parochial  exhortations  by  telling  his  parishioners  in  short 
to  "look  at  the  Nutcrackers"  if  they  wanted  to  see  what  it 
was  to.  live  a  virtuous  life.  Everything  had  gone  on  pros- 
perously with  them,  and  they  had  reared  many  successive 
families  of  young  Nutcrackers,  who  went  forth  to  assume 
their  places  in  the  forest  of  life,  and  to  reflect  credit  on 
their  bringing-up,  —  so  that  naturally  enough  they  began 
to  have  a  very  easy  way  of  considering  themselves  models 
of  wisdom. 

But  at  last  it  came  along,  in  the  course  of  events,  that 
they  had  a  son  named  Featherhead,  who  was  destined  to 
bring  them  a  great  deal  of  anxiety.  Nobody  knows  what 
the  reason  is,  but  the  fact  was,  that  Master  Featherhead 
was  as  different  from  all  the  former  children  of  this  worthy 
couple  as  if  he  had  been  dropped  out  of  the  moon  into 
their  nest,  instead  of  coming  into  it  in  the  general  way. 
Young  Featherhead  was  a  squirrel  of  good  parts  and  a 
lively  disposition,  but  he  was  sulky  and  contrary  and  unrea- 
sonable, and  always  finding  matter  of  complaint  in  every- 
thing his  respectable  papa  and  mamma  did.  Instead  of 
assisting  in  the  cares  of  a  family,  —  picking  up  nuts  and 
learning  other  lessons  proper  to  a  young  squirrel,  —  he 
seemed  to  settle  himself  from  his  earliest  years  into  a  sort 


1 6       THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE. 

of  lofty  contempt  for  the  Nutcrackers,  for  Nutcracker 
Lodge,  and  for  all  the  good  old  ways  and  institutions  of 
the  domestic  hole,  which  he  declared  to  be  stupid  and 
unreasonable,  and  entirely  behind  the  times.  To  be  sure, 
he  was  always  on  hand  at  meal-times,  and  played  a  very 
lively  tooth  on  the  nuts  which  his  mother  had  collected, 
always  selecting  the  very  best  for  himself;  but  he  seasoned 
his  nibbling  with  so  much  grumbling  and  discontent,  and 
so  many  severe  remarks,  as  to  give  the  impression  that  he 
considered  himself  a  peculiarly  ill-used  squirrel  in  having 
to  "eat  their  old  grub,"  as  he  very  unceremoniously 
called  it. 

Papa  Nutcracker,  on  these  occasions,  was  often  fiercely 
indignant,  and  poor  little  Mamma  Nutcracker  would  shed 
tears,  and  beg  her  darling  to  be  a  little  more  reasonable ; 
but  the  young  gentleman  seemed  always  to  consider  him- 
self as  the  injured  party. 

Now  nobody  could  tell  why  or  wherefore  Master  Feath- 
erhead  looked  upon  himself  as  injured  and  aggrieved,  since 
he  was  living  in  a  good  hole,  with  plenty  to  eat,  and  with- 
out the  least  care  or  labor  of  his  own ;  but  he  seemed 
rather  to  value  himself  upon  being  gloomy  and  dissatis- 
fied. While  his  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters  were 
cheerfully  racing  up  and  down  the  branches,  busy  in  their 
domestic  toils,  and  laying  up  stores  for  the  winter,  Feath- 
erhead  sat  gloomily  apart,  declaring  himself  weary  of  exist- 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       I/ 

ence,  and  feeling  himself  at  liberty  to  quarrel  with  every- 
body and  everything  about  him.  Nobody  understood  him, 
he  said ;  —  he  was  a  squirrel  of  a  peculiar  nature,  and 
needed  peculiar  treatment,  and  nobody  treated  him  in  a 
way  that  did  not  grate  on  the  finer  nerves  of  his  feelings. 
He  had  higher  notions  of  existence  than  could  be  bounded 
by  that  old  rotten  hole  in  a  hollow  tree ;  he  had  thoughts 
that  soared  far  above  the  miserable,  petty  details  of  every- 
day life,  and  he  could  not  and  would  not  bring  down  these 
soaring  aspirations  to  the  contemptible  toil  of  laying  up  a 
few  chestnuts  or  hickory-nuts  for  winter. 

"Depend  upon  it,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nutcracker  sol- 
emnly, "that  fellow  must  be  a  genius." 

"  Fiddlestick  on  his  genius ! "  said  old  Mr.  Nutcracker ; 
"what  does  he  do?" 

"  O  nothing,  of  course ;  that 's  one  of  the  first  marks  of 
genius.  Geniuses,  you  know,  never  can  come  down  to 
common  life." 

"  He  eats  enough  for  any  two,"  remarked  old  Nutcracker, 
"and  he  never  helps  gather  nuts." 

"  My  dear,  ask  Parson  Too-whit ;  he  has  conversed  with 
him,  and  quite  agrees  with  me  that  he  says  very  uncom- 
mon things  for  a  squirrel  of  his  age ;  he  has  such  fine 
feelings,  —  so  much  above  those  of  the  common  crowd.". 

"  Fine  feelings  be  hanged  !  "  said  old  Nutcracker.  "  When 
a  fellow  eats  all  the  nuts  that  his  mother  gives  him,  and 
2 


I 8       THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE. 

then  grumbles  at  her,  I  don't  believe  much  in  his  fine  feel- 
ings. Why  don't  he  set  himself  about  something  ?  I  'm 
going  to  tell  my  fine  young  gentleman,  that,  if  he  does  n't 
behave  himself,  I  '11  tumble  him  out  of  the  nest,  neck  and 
crop,  and  see  if  hunger  won't  do  something  towards  bring- 
ing down  his  fine  airs." 

But  then  Mrs.  Nutcracker  fell  on  her  husband's  neck 
with  both  paws,  and  wept,  and  besought  him  so  piteously 
to.  have  patience  with  her  darling,  that  old  Nutcracker, 
who  was  himself  a  soft-hearted  old  squirrel,  was  prevailed 
upon  to  put  up  with  the  airs  and  graces  of  his  young  scape- 
grace a  little  longer;  and  secretly  in  his  silly  old  heart 
he  revolved  the  question  whether  possibly  it  might  not 
be  that  a  great  genius  was  actually  to  come  of  his  house- 
hold. 

The  Nutcrackers  belonged  to  the  old  established  race  of 
the  Grays,  but  they  were  sociable,  friendly  people,  and  kept 
on  the  best  of  terms  with  all  branches  of  the  Nutcracker 
family.  The  Chipmunks  of  Chipmunk  Hollow  were  a  very 
lively,  cheerful,  sociable  race,  and  on  the  very  best  of  terms 
with  the  Nutcracker  Grays.  Young  Tip  Chipmunk,  the 
oldest  son,  was  in  all  respects  a  perfect  contrast  to  Master 
Featherhead.  He  was  always  lively  and  cheerful,  and  so 
very  alert  in  providing  for  the  family,  that  old  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Chipmunk  had  very  little  care,  but  could  sit  sociably 
at  the  door  of  their  hole  and  chat  with  neighbors,  quite 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       If) 

sure  that  Tip  would  bring  everything  out  right  for  them, 
and  have  plenty  laid  up  for  winter. 

Now  Featherhead  took  it  upon  him,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  to  look  down  upon  Tip  Chipmunk,  and  on  every 
occasion  to  disparage  him  in  the  social  circle,  as  a  very 
common  kind  of  squirrel,  with  whom  it  would  be  best  not 
to  associate  too  freely. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nutcracker  one  day,  when  he  was 
expressing  these  ideas,  "it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  too 
hard  on  poor  Tip ;  he  is  a  most  excellent  son  and  brother, 
and  I  wish  you  would  be  civil  to  him." 

"  O,  I  don't  doubt  that  Tip  is  good  enough,"  said  Feath- 
erhead, carelessly ;  "  but  then  he  is  so  very  common !  he 
has  n't  an  idea  in  his  skull  above  his  nuts  and  his  hole. 
He  is  good-natured  enough,  to  be  sure,  —  these  very  ordi- 
nary people  often  are  good-natured,  —  but  he  wants  man- 
ner ;  he  has  really  no  manner  at  all ;  and  as  to  the  deeper 
feelings,  Tip  has  n't  the  remotest  idea  of  them.  I  mean 
always  to  be  civil  to  Tip  when  he  comes  in  my  way,  but 
I  think  the  less  we  see  of  that  sort  of  people  the  better ; 
and  I  hope,  mother,  you  won't  invite  the  Chipmunks  at 
Christmas,  —  these  family  dinners  are  such  a  bore!" 

"But,  my  dear,  your  father  thinks  a  great  deal  of  the 
Chipmunks ;  and  it  is  an  old  family  custom  to  have  all 
the  relatives  here  at  Christmas." 

"  And  an  awful  bore  it  is !     Why  must  people  of  refine- 


2O       THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE. 

ment  and  elevation  be  forever  tied  down  because  of  some 
distant  relationship  ?  Now  there  are  our  cousins  the  High- 
Flyers, —  if  we  could  get  them,  there  would  be  some  sense 
in  it.  Young  Whisk  rather  promised  me  for  Christmas ; 
but  it's  seldom  now  you  can  get  a  flying  squirrel  to  show 
himself  in  our  parts,  and  if  we  are  intimate  with  the  Chip- 
munks it  is  n't  to  be  expected." 

"  Confound  him  for  a  puppy ! "  said  old  Nutcracker,  when 
his  wife  repeated  these  sayings  to  him.  "Featherhead  is 
a  fool.  Common,  forsooth  !  I  wish  good,  industrious,  pains- 
taking sons  like  Tip  Chipmunk  were  common.  For  my 
part,  I  find  these  uncommon  people  the  most  tiresome ; 
they  are  not  content  with  letting  us  carry  the  whole  load, 
but  they  sit  on  it,  and  scold  at  us  while  we  carry  them." 

But  old  Mr.  Nutcracker,  like  many  other  good  old  gen- 
tlemen squirrels,  found  that  Christmas  dinners  and  other 
things  were  apt  to  go  as  his  wife  said,  and  his  wife  was 
apt  to  go  as  young  Featherhead  said ;  and  so,  when  Christ- 
mas came,  the  Chipmunks  were  not  invited,  for  the  first 
time  in  many  years.  The  Chipmunks,  however,  took  all 
pleasantly,  and  accepted  poor  old  Mrs.  Nutcracker's  awk- 
ward apologies  with  the  "best  possible  grace,  and  young 
Tip  looked  in  on  Christmas  morning  with  the  compliments 
of  the  season  and  a  few  beech-nuts,  which  he  had  secured 
as  a  great  dainty.  The  fact  was,  that  Tip's  little  striped 
fur  coat  was  so  filled  up  and  overflowing  with  cheerful 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       21 

good-will  to  all,  that  he  never  could  be  made  to  under- 
stand that  any  of  his  relations  could  want  to  cut  him  ; 
and  therefore  Featherhead  looked  down  on  him  with  con- 
tempt, and  said  he  had  no  tact,  and  could  n't  see  when 
he  was  not  wanted. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how,  by  means  of  persisting  in 
remarks  like  these,  young  Featherhead  at  last  got  all  his 
family  to  look  up  to  him  as  something  uncommon.  Though 
he  added  nothing  to  the  family,  and  required  more  to  be 
done  for  him  than  all  the  others  put  together,  —  though  he 
showed  not  the  smallest  real  perseverance  or  ability  in  any- 
thing useful,  —  yet  somehow  all  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  his  poor  foolish  old  mother,  got  into  a  way  of  regard- 
ing him  as  something  wonderful,  and  delighting  in  his 
sharp  sayings  as  if  they  had  been  the  wisest  things  in  the 
world. 

But  at  last  old  papa  declared  that  it  was  time  for  Feath- 
erhead to  settle  himself  to  some  business  in  life,  roundly 
declaring  that  he  could  not  always  have  him  as  a  hanger- 
on  in  the  paternal  hole. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  boy?"  said  Tip  Chip- 
munk to  him  one  day.  "We  are  driving  now  a  thriving 
trade  in  hickory-nuts,  and  if  you  would  like  to  join  us  — " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Featherhead ;  "  but  I  confess  I  have 
no  fancy  for  anything  so  slow  as  the  hickory  trade ;  I 
never  was  made  to  grub  and  delve  in  that  way." 


22       THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE. 


Thf  fact  was,  that  Featherhead  had  lately  been  form- 
ing alliances  such  as  no  reputable  squirrel  should  even 
think  of.  He  had  more  than  once  been  seen  going  out 
evenings  with  the  Rats  of  Rat  Hollow,  —  a  race  whose 
reputation  for  honesty  was  more  than  doubtful.  The  fact 
was,  further,  that  old  Longtooth  Rat,  an  old  sharper  and 
money-lender,  had  long  had  his  eye  on  Featherhead  as  just 
about  silly  enough  for  their  purposes,  —  engaging  him  in 
what  he  called  a  speculation,  but  which  was  neither  more 
nor  less  than  downright  stealing. 

Near  by  the  chestnut-tree  where  Nutcracker  Lodge  was 
situated  was  a  large  barn  filled  with  corn  and  grain,  be- 
sides many  bushels  of  hazel-nuts,  chestnuts,  and  walnuts. 
Now  old  Longtooth  proposed  to  young  Featherhead  that 
he  should  nibble  a  passage  into  this  loft,  and  there  estab- 
lish himself  in  the  commission  business,  passing  the  nuts 
and  corn  to  him  as  he  wanted  them.  Old  Longtooth  knew 
what  he  was  about  in  the  proposal,  for  he  had  heard  talk 
of  a  brisk  Scotch  terrier  that  was  about  to  be  bought  to 
keep  the  rats  from  the  grain  ;  but  you  may  be  sure  he 
kept  his  knowledge  to  himself,  so  that  Featherhead  was 
none  the  wiser  for  it. 

"The  nonsense  of  fellows  Kke  Tip  Chipmunk!"  said  Feath- 
erhead to  his  admiring  brothers  and  sisters.  "  The  perfectly 
stupid  nonsense  !  There  he  goes,  delving  and  poking,  pick- 
ing up  a  nut  here  and  a  grain  there,  when  /  step  into  prop- 
erty at  once." 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       2$ 

"  But  I  hope,  my  son,  you  are  careful  to  be  honest  in 
your  dealings,"  said  old  Nutcracker,  who  was  a  very  moral 
squirrel. 

With  that,  young  Featherhead  threw  his  tail  saucily  over 
one  shoulder,  winked  knowingly  at  his  brothers,  and  said, 
"  Certainly,  sir !  If  honesty  consists  in  getting  what  you  can 
while  it  is  going,  I  mean  to  be  honest." 

Very  soon  Featherhead  appeared  to  his  admiring  com- 
panions in  the  height  of  prosperity.  He  had  a  splendid 
hole  in  the  midst  of  a  heap  of  chestnuts,  and  he  literally 
seemed  to  be  rolling  in  wealth ;  he  never  came  home  with- 
out showering  lavish  gifts  on  his  mother  and  sisters  ;  he 
wore  his  tail  over  his  back  with  a  buckish  air,  and  patron- 
ized Tip  Chipmunk  with  a  gracious  nod  whenever  he  met 
him,  and  thought  that  the  world  was  going  well  with  him. 

But  one  luckless  day,  as  Featherhead  was  lolling  in  his 
hole,  up  came  two  boys  with  the  friskiest,  wiriest  Scotch  ter- 
rier you  ever  saw.  His  eyes  blazed  like  torches,  and  poor 
Featherhead's  heart  died  within  him  as  he  heard  the  boys 
say,  "  Now  we  '11  see  if  we  can't  catch  the  rascal  that  eats 
our  grain." 

Featherhead  tried  to  slink  out  at  the  hole  he  had  gnawed 
to  come  in  by,  but  found  it  stopped. 

"  O,  you  are  there,  are  you,  Mister  ? "  said  the  boy.  "  Well, 
you  don't  get  out ;  and  now  for  a  chase ! " 

And,  sure  enough,  poor  Featherhead  ran  distracted  with 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE. 


terror  up  and  down,  through  the  bundles  of  hay,  between 
barVels,  and  over  casks ;  but  with  the  barking  terrier  ever 
at  his  heels,  and  the  boys  running,  shouting,  and  cheering 
his  pursuer  on.  He  was  glad  at  last  to  escape  through  a 
crack,  though  he  left  half  of  his  fine  brush  behind  him,  — 
for  Master  Wasp  the  terrier  made  a  snap  at  it  just  as  he 
was  going,  and  cleaned  all  the  hair  off  of  it,  so  that  it  was 
bare  as  a  rat's  tail. 

Poor  Featherhead  limped  off,  bruised  and  beaten  and  be- 
draggled, with  the  boys  and  dog  still  after  him  ;    and   they 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE.       2  5 

would  have  caught  him,  after  all,  if  Tip  Chipmunk's  hole 
had  not  stood  hospitably  open  to  receive  him.  Tip  took 
him  in,  like  a  good-natured  fellow  as  he  was,  and  took  the 
best  of  care  of  him ;  but  the  glory  of  Featherhead's  tail  had 
departed  forever.  He  had  sprained  his  left  paw,  and  got 
a  chronic  rheumatism,  and  the  fright  and  fatigue  which  he 
had  gone  through  had  broken  up  his  constitution,  so  that 
he  never  again  could  be  what  he  had  been  ;  but  Tip  gave 
him  a  situation  as  under-clerk  in  his  establishment,  and  from 
that  time  he  was  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  squirrel  than  he  ever 
had  been  before. 


THE   HISTORY   OF  TIP-TOP. 

T  TNDER  the  window  of  a  certain  pretty  little  cottage 
*^  there  grew  a  great  old  apple-tree,  which  in  the  spring 
had  thousands  and  thousands  of  lovely  pink  blossoms  on  it, 
and  in  the  autumn  had  about  half  as  many  bright  red  apples 
as  it  had  blossoms  in  tire  spring. 

The  nursery  of  this  cottage  was  a  little  bower  of  a  room, 
papered  with  mossy-green  paper,  and  curtained  with  white 
muslin  ;  and  here  five  little  children  used  to  come,  in  their 
white  nightgowns,  to  be  dressed  and  have  their  hair  brushed 
and  curled  every  morning 


THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP.  2  7 

First,  there  were  Alice  and  Mary,  bright-eyed,  laughing  lit- 
tle girls,  of  seven  and  eight  years,  and  then  came  stout  little 
Jamie,  and  Charlie,  and  finally  little  Puss,  whose  real  name 
was  Ellen,  but  who  was  called  Puss,  and  Pussy,  and  Birdie, 
and  Toddlie,  and  any  other  pet  name  that  came  to  mind. 

Now  it  used  to  happen,  every  morning,  that  the  five  little 
heads  would  be  peeping  out  of  the  window,  together,  into 
the  flowery  boughs  of  the  apple-tree  ;  and  the  reason  was 
this.  A  pair  of  robins  had  built  a  very  pretty,  smooth-lined 
nest  in  a  fork  of  the  limb  that  came  directly  under  the  win- 
dowj  and  the  building  of  this  nest  had  been  superintended, 
day  by  day,  by  the  five  pairs  of  bright  eyes  of  these  five 
children.  The  robins  at  first  had  been  rather  shy  of  this 
inspection ;  but,  as  they  got  better  acquainted,  they  seemed 
to  think  no  more  of  the  little  curly  heads  in  the  window, 
than  of  the  pink  blossoms  about  them,  or  the  daisies  and 
buttercups  at  the  foot  of  the  tree. 

All  the  little  hands  were  forward  to  help  ;  some  threw 
out  flossy  bits  of  cotton,  —  for  which,  we  grieve  to  say, 
Charlie  had  cut  a  hole  in  the  crib  quilt,  —  and  some  threw 
out  bits  of  thread  and  yarn,  and  Allie  ravelled  out  a  con- 
siderable piece  from  one  of  her  garters,  which  she  threw  out 
as  a  contribution  ;  and  they  exulted  in  seeing  the  skill  with 
which  the  little  builders  wove  everything  in.  "  Little  birds, 
little  birds,"  they  would  say,  "you  shall  be  kept  warm,  for 
we  have  given  you  cotton  out  of  our  crib  quilt,  and  yarn 


28  THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP. 

out  of  our  stockings."  Nay,  so  far  did  this  generosity  pro- 
ceed, that  Charlie  cut  a  flossy,  golden  curl  from  Toddlie's 
head  and  threw  it  out ;  and  when  the  birds  caught  it  up 
the  whole  flock  laughed  to  see  Toddlie's  golden  hair  figur- 
ing in  a  bird's-nest. 

When  the  little  thing  was  finished,  it  was  so  neat,  and 
trim,  and  workman-like,  that  the  children  all  exulted  over 
it,  and  called  it  "  our  nest,"  and  the  two  robins  they  called 
"our  birds."  But  wonderful  was  the  joy  when  the  little 
eyes,  opening  one  morning,  saw  in  the  nest  a  beautiful  pale- 
green  egg  ;  and  the  joy  grew  from  day  to  day,  for  every 
day  there  came  another  egg,  and  so  on  till  there  were  five 
little  eggs  ;  and  then  the  oldest  girl,  Alice,  said,  "  There 
are  five  eggs ;  that  makes  one  for  each  of  us,  and  each  of 
us  will  have  a  little  bird  by  and  by "  ;  —  at  which  all  the 
children  laughed  and  jumped  for  glee. 

When  the  five  little  eggs  were  all  laid,  the  mother-bird 
began  to  sit  on  them  ;  and  at  any  time  of  day  or  night, 
when  a  little  head  peeped  out  of  the  nursery  window,  might 
be  seen  a  round,  bright,  patient  pair  of  bird's  eyes  content- 
edly waiting  for  the  young  birds  to  come.  It  seemed  a  long 
time  for  the  children  to  wait ;  but  every  day  they  put  some 
bread  and  cake  from  their  luncheon  on  the  window-sill,  so 
that  the  birds  might  have  something  to  eat ;  but  still  there 
she  was,  patiently  watching ! 

"How  long,  long,  long  she  waits  ! "  said  Jamie,  impatiently. 
"  I  don't  believe  she  's  ever  going  to  hatch." 


THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP.  2Q 

"  O,  yes  she  is  ! "  said  grave  little  Alice.  "  Jamie,  you 
don't  understand  about  these  things  ;  it  takes  a  long,  long 
time  to  hatch  eggs.  Old  Sam  says  his  hens  set  three  weeks ; 
—  only  think,  almost  a  month  ! " 

Three  weeks  looked  a  long  time  to  the  five  bright  pairs 
of  little  watching  eyes  ;  but  Jamie  said,  the  eggs  were  so 
much  smaller  than  hens'  eggs,  that  it  would  n't  take  so  long 
to  hatch  them,  he  knew.  Jamie  always  thought  he  knew 
all  about  everything,  and  was  so  sure  of  it  that  he  rather 
took  the  lead  among  the  children.  But  one  morning,  when 
they  pushed  their  five  heads  out  of  the  window,  the  round, 
patient  little  bird-eyes  were  gone,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
nothing  in  the  nest  but  a  bunch  of  something  hairy. 

Upon  this  they  all  cried  out,  "  O  mamma,  do  come  here ! 
the  bird  is  gone  and  left  her  nest ! "  And  when  they  cried 
out,  they  saw  five  wide  little  red  mouths  open  in  the  nest, 
and  saw  that  the  hairy  bunch  of  stuff  was  indeed  the  first 
of  five  little  birds. 

"They  are  dreadful-looking  things,"  said  Mary  ;  "  I  did  n't 
know  that  little  birds  began  by  looking  so  badly." 

"They  seem  to  be  all  mouth,"  said  Jamie. 

"We  must  feed  them,"  said  Charlie. 

"  Here,  little  birds,  here  's  some  gingerbread  for  you,"  he 
said  ;  and  he  threw  a  bit  of  his  gingerbread,  which  fortu- 
nately only  hit  the  nest  on  the  outside,  and  fell  down  among 
the  buttercups,  where  two  crickets  made  a  meal  of  it,  and 


30  THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP. 

agreed  that  it  was  as  excellent  gingerbread  as  if  old  Mother 
Cricket  herself  had  made  it. 

"Take  care,  Charlie,"  said  his  mamma;  "we  do  not  know 
enough  to  feed  young  birds.  We  must  leave  it  to  their 
papa  and  mamma,  who  probably  started  out  bright  and 
early  in  the  morning  to  get  breakfast  for  them." 

Sure  enough,  while  they  were  speaking,  back  came  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Robin,  whirring  through  the  green  shadows  of 
the  apple-tree ;  and  thereupon  all  the  five  little  red  mouths 
flew  open,  and  the  birds  put  something  into  each. 

It  was  great  amusement,  after  this,  to  watch  the  daily 
feeding  of  the  little  birds,  and  to  observe  how,  when  not 
feeding  them,  the  mother  sat  brooding  on  the  nest,  warm- 
ing them  under  her  soft  wings,  while  the  father-bird  sat  on 
the  tip-top  bough  of  the  apple-tree  and  sang  to  them.  In 
time  they  grew  and  grew,  and,  instead  of  a  nest  full  of 
little  red  mouths,  there  was  a  nest  full  of  little,  fat,  speckled 
robins,  with  round,  bright,  cunning  eyes,  just  like  their 
parents ;  and  the  children  began  to  talk  together  about 
their  birds. 

"I  'm  going  to  give  my  robin  a  name,"  said  Mary.  "I 
call  him  Brown-Eyes." 

"And  I  call  mine  Tip-Top,"  said  Jamie,  "because  I 
know  he  '11  be  a  tip-top  bird." 

"And  I  call  mine  singer,"  said  Alice. 

"I  'all  mine  Toddy,"  said  little  Toddlie,  who  would  not 
be  behindhand  in  anything  that  was  going  on. 


THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP.  31 

"Hurrah  for  Toddlie!"  said  Charlie,  "her's  is  the  best 
of  all.  For  my  part,  I  call  mine  Speckle." 

So  then  the  birds  were  all  made  separate  characters  by 
having  each  a  separate  name  given  it.  Brown-Eyes,  Tip- 
Top,  Singer,  Toddy,  and  Speckle  made,  as  they  grew 
bigger,  a  very  crowded  nestful  of  birds. 

Now  the  children  had  early  been  taught  to  say,  in  a 
little  hymn :  — 

"Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree, 

And  't  is  a  shameful  sight 
When  children  of  one  family 

Fall  out,  and  chide,  and  fight";  — 

and  they  thought  anything  really  written  and  printed  in  a 
hymn  must  be  true ;  therefore  they  were  very  much  aston- 
ished to  see,  from  day  to  day,  that  their  little  birds  in  their 
nests  did  not  agree. 

Tip-Top  was  the  biggest  and  strongest  bird,  and  he  was 
always  shuffling  and  crowding  the  others,  and  clamoring 
for  the  most  food ;  and  when  Mrs.  Robin  came  in  with  a 
nice  bit  of  anything,  Tip-Top's  red  mouth  opened  so  wide, 
and  he  was  so  noisy,  that  one  would  think  the  nest  was  all 
his.  His  mother  used  to  correct  him  for  these  gluttonous 
ways,  and  sometimes  made  him  wait  till  all  the  rest  were 
helped  before  she  gave  him  a  mouthful ;  but  he  generally 
revenged  himself  in  her  absence  by  crowding  the  others 
and  making  the  nest  generally  uncomfortable.  Speckle, 


32  THE   HISTORY   OF    TIP-TOP. 

however,  was  a  bird  of  spirit,  and  he  used  to  peck  at  Tip- 
Top  ;  so  they  would  sometimes  have  a  regular  sparring- 
match  across  poor  Brown-Eyes,  who  was  a  meek,  tender 
little  fellow,  and  would  sit  winking  and  blinking  in  fear 
while  his  big  brothers  quarrelled.  As  to  Toddy  and  Sing- 
er, they  turned  out  to  be  sister  birds,  and  showed  quite  a 
feminine  talent  for  chattering ;  they  used  to  scold  their 
badly  behaving  brothers  in  a  way  that  made  the  nest  quite 
lively. 

On  the  whole,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin  did  not  find  their 
family  circle  the  peaceable  place  the  poet  represents. 

"  I  say,"  said  Tip-Top  one  day  to  them,  "  this  old  nest 
is  a  dull,  mean,  crowded  hole,  and  it 's  quite  time  some  of 
us  were  out  of  it ;  just  give  us  lessons  in  flying,  won't  you, 
and  let  us  go." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Mother  Robin,  "we  shall  teach  you 
to  fly  as  soon  as  your  wings  are  strong  enough." 

"You  are  a  very  little  bird,"  said  his  father,  "and  ought 
to  be  good  and  obedient,  and  wait  patiently  till  your  wing- 
feathers  grow ;  and  then  you  can  soar  away  to  some 
purpose." 

"Wait  for  my  wing-feathers?  Humbug!"  Tip-Top  would 
say,  as  he  sat  balancing  with  his  little  short  tail  on  the 
edge  of  the  nest,  and  looking  down  through  the  grass  and 
clover-heads  below,  and  up  into  the  blue  clouds  above. 
"  Father  and  mother  are  slow  old  birds ;  keep  a  fellow 


THE   HISTORY    OF   TIP-TOP.  33 

back  with  their  confounded  notions.  If  they  don't  hurry 
up,  I  '11  take  matters  into  my  own  claws,  and  be  off  some 
day  before  they  know  it.  Look  at  those  swallows,  skim- 
ming and  diving  through  the  blue  air !  That 's  the  way 
I  want  to  do." 

"But,  dear  brother,  the  way  to  learn  to  do  that  is  to  be 
good  and  obedient  while  we  are  little,  and  wait  till  our 
parents  think  it  best  for  us  to  begin." 

"Shut  up  your  preaching,"  said  Tip-Top;  "what  do  you 
girls  know  of  flying  ? " 

"About  as  much  as  you"  said  Speckle.  "However,  I'm 
sure  I  don't  care  how  soon  you  take  yourself  off,  for  you 
take  up  more  room  than  all  the  rest  put  together." 

"  You  mind  yourself,  Master  Speckle,  or  you  '11  get  some- 
thing you  don't  like,"  said  Tip-Top,  still  strutting  in  a  very 
cavalier  way  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  sticking  up  his 
little  short  tail  quite  valiantly. 

"  O  my  darlings,"  said  the  mamma,  now  fluttering  home, 
"  cannot  I  ever  teach  you  to  live  in  love  ? " 

"  It 's  all  Tip-Top's  fault,"  screamed  the  other  birds  in  a 
flutter. 

"My  fault?  Of  course,  everything  in  this  nest  that  goes 
wrong  is  laid  to  me,"  said  Tip-Top  ;  "  and  I  '11  leave  it  to 
anybody,  now,  if  I  crowd  anybody.  I  've  been  sitting  out- 
side, on  the  very  edge  of  the  nest,  and  there  's  Speckle 
has  got  my  place." 
3 


34  THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP. 

"  Who  wants  your  place  ? "  said  Speckle.  "  I  m  sure 
you  can  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  mother,  "  do  go  into  the  nest 
and  be  a  good  little  bird,  and  then  you  will  be  happy." 

"  That  's  always  the  talk,"  said  Tip-Top.  "  I  'm  too  big 
for  the  nest,  and  I  want  to  see  the  world.  It  's  full  of 
beautiful  things,  I  know.  Now  there  's  the  most  lovely 
creature,  with  bright  eyes,  that  comes  under  the  tree  every 
day,  and  wants  me  to  come  down  in  the  grass  and  play 
with  her." 

"  My  son,  my  son,  beware ! "  said  the  frightened  mother  ; 
"that  lovely  seeming  creature  is  our  dreadful  enemy,  the 
cat,  —  a  horrid  monster,  with  teeth  and  claws." 

At  this,  all  the  little  birds  shuddered  and  cuddled  deeper 
in  the  nest ;  only  Tip-Top,  in  his  heart,  disbelieved  it. 
"  I  'm  too  old  a  bird,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  to  believe  that 
story ;  mother  is  chaffing  me.  But  I  '11  show  her  that  I 
can  take  care  of  myself." 

So  the  next  morning,  after  the  father  and  mother  were 
gone,  Tip-Top  got  on  the  edge  of  the  nest  again,  and 
looked  over  and  saw  lovely  Miss  Pussy  washing  her  face 
among  the  daisies  under  the  tree,  and  her  hair  was  sleek 
and  white  as  the  daisies,  and  her  eyes  were  yellow  and 
beautiful  to  behold,  and  she  looked  up  to  the  tree  be- 
witchingly,  and  said,  "  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down ; 
Pussy  wants  to  play  with  you." 


THE   HISTORY   OF    TIP-TOP.  35 

"  Only  look  at  her ! "  said  Tip-Top  ;  "  her  eyes  are  like 
gold." 

"No,  don't  look,"  said  Singer  and  Speckle.  "She  will 
bewitch  you  and  then  eat  you  up." 

"I'd  like  to  see  her  try  to  eat  me  up,"  said  Tip-Top, 
again  balancing  his  short  tail  over  the  nest.  "  Just  as  if 
she  would.  She's  just  the  nicest,  most  innocent  creature 
going,  and  only  wants  us  to  have  fun.  We  never  do  have 
any  fun  in  this  old  nest ! " 

Then  the  yellow  eyes  below  shot  a  bewildering  light 
into  Tip-Top's  eyes,  and  a  voice  sounded  sweet  as  silver : 
"  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down  ;  Pussy  wants  to  play 
with  you." 

"  Her  paws  are  as  white  as  velvet,"  said  Tip-Top ;  "  and 
so  soft !  I  don't  believe  she  has  any  claws."- 

"  Don't  go,  brother,  don't ! "  screamed  both  sisters. 

All  we  know  about  it  is,  that  a  moment  after  a  direful 
scream  was  heard  from  the  nursery  window.  "O  mamma, 
mamma,  do  come  here !  Tip-Top 's  fallen  out  of  the  nest, 
and  the  cat  has  got  him ! " 

-  Away  ran  Pussy  with  foolish  little  Tip-Top  in  her 
mouth,  and  he  squeaked  dolefully  when  he  felt  her  sharp 
teeth.  Wicked  Miss  Pussy  had  no  mind  to  eat  him  at 
once;  she  meant  just  as  she  said,  to  "play  with  him." 
So  she  ran  off  to  a  private  place  among  the  currant-bushes, 
while  all  the  little  curly  heads  were  scattered  up  and  down 
looking  for  her. 


36  THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  cat  play  with  a  bird  or  a  mouse  ? 
She  sets  it  down,  and  seems  to  go  off  and  leave  it ;  but 
the  moment  it  makes  the  first  movement  to  get  away,  — 
pounce !  she  springs  on  it,  and  shakes  it  in  her  mouth ; 
and  so  she  teases  and  tantalizes  it,  till  she  gets  ready  to 
kill  and  eat  it.  I  can't  say  why  she  does  it,  except  that  it 
is  a  cat's  nature  ;  and  it  is  a  very  bad  nature  for  foolish 
young  robins  to  get  acquainted  with. 

"  O,  where  is  he  ?  where  is  he  ?  Do  find  my  poor  Tip- 
Top,"  said  Jamie,  crying  as  loud  as  he  could  scream.  "  I  '11 
kill  that  horrid  cat,  —  I  '11  kill  her  ! " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin,  who  had  come  home  meantime, 
joined  their  plaintive  chirping  to  the  general  confusion  ; 
and  Mrs.  Robin's  bright  eyes  soon  discovered  her  poor 
little  son,  where  Pussy  was  patting  and  rolling  him  from 
one  paw  to  the  other  under  the  currant-bushes ;  and  set- 
tling on  the  bush  above,  she  called  the  little  folks  to  the 
spot  by  her  cries. 

Jamie  plunged  under  the  bush,  and  caught  the  cat  with 
luckless  Tip-Top  in  her  .mouth ;  and,  with  one  or  two  good 
thumps,  he  obliged  her  to  let  him  go.  Tip-Top  was  not 
dead,  but  in  a  sadly  draggled  and  torn  state.  Some  of 
his  feathers  were  torn  out,  and  one  of  his  wings  was 
broken,  and  hung  down  in  a  melancholy  way. 

"  O,  what  shall  we  do  for  him  ?  He  will  die.  Poor 
Tip-Top  !  "  said  the  children. 


THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP.  37 

"Let's  put  him  back  into  the  nest,  children,"  said 
mamma.  "  His  mother  will  know  best  what  to  do  with 
him." 

So  a  ladder  was  got,  and  papa  climbed  up  and  put  poor 
Tip-Top  safely  into  the  nest.  The  cat  had  shaken  all  the 
nonsense  well  out  of  him  ;  he  was  a  dreadfully  humbled 
young  robin. 

The  time  came  at  last  when  all  the  other  birds  in  the 
nest  learned  to  fly,  and  fluttered  and  flew  about  every- 
where ;  but  poor  melancholy  Tip-Top  was  still  confined  to 
the  nest  with  a  broken  wing.  Finally,  as  it  became  evi- 
dent that  it  would  be  long  before  he  could  fly,  Jamie 
took  him  out  of  the  nest,  and  made  a  nice  little  cage  for 
him,  and  used  to  feed  him  every  day,  and  he  would  hop 
about  and  seem  tolerably  contented ;  but  ~it  was  evident 
that  he  would  be  a  lame-winged  robin  all  his  days. 

I 

Jamie's   mother  told  him  that   Tip-Top's  history  was  an 

allegory. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  mamma,"  said  Jamie. 

"  When  something  in  a  bird's  life  is  like  something  in  a 
boy's  life,  or  when  a  story  is  similar  in  its  meaning  to 
reality,  we  call  it  an  allegory.  Little  boys,  when  they  are 
about  half  grown  up,  sometimes  do  just  as  Tip-Top  did. 
They  are  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  away  from  home  into 
the  great  world ;  and  then  Temptation  comes,  with  bright 


38  THE   HISTORY   OF   TIP-TOP. 

eyes  and  smooth  velvet  paws,  and  promises  them  fun ;  and 
they  go  to  bad  places ;  they  get  to  smoking,  and  then  to 
drinking;  and,  finally,  the  bad  habit  gets  them  in  its  teeth 
and  claws,  and  plays  with  them  as  a  cat  does  with  a 
mouse.  They  try  to  reform,  just  as  your  robin  tried  to 
get  away  from  the  cat ;  but  their  bad  habits  pounce  on 
them  and  drag  them  back.  And  so,  when  the  time  comes 
that  they  want  to  begin  life,  they  are  miserable,  broken- 
down  creatures,  like  your  broken-winged  robin. 

"  So,  Jamie,  remember,  and  don't  try  to  be  a  man  before 
your  time,  and  let  your  parents  judge  for  you  while  you 
are  young ;  and  never  believe  in  any  soft  white  Pussy,  with 
golden  eyes,  that  comes  and  wants  to  tempt  you  to  come 
down  and  play  with  her.  If  a  big  boy  offers  to  teach 
you  to  smoke  a  cigar,  that  is  Pussy.  If  a  boy  wants  you 
to  go  into  a  billiard-saloon,  that  is  Pussy.  If  a  boy  wants 
you  to  learn  to  drink  anything  with  spirit  in  it,  however 
sweetened  and  disguised,  remember,  Pussy  is  there ;  and 
Pussy's  claws  are  long,  and  Pussy's  teeth  are  strong  ;  and 
if  she  gives  you  one  shake  in  your  youth,  you  will  be  like 
a  broken-winged  robin  all  your  days." 


MISS    KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET. 

MISS  KATY-DID  sat  on  the  branch  of  a  flowering 
Azalia,  in  her  best  suit  of  fine  green  and  silver, 
with  wings  of  point-lace  from  Mother  Nature's  finest  web. 

Miss  Katy  was  in  the  very  highest  possible  spirits,  be- 
cause her  gallant  cousin,  Colonel  Katy-did,  had  looked  in  to 
make  her  a  morning  visit.  It  was  a  fine  morning,  too, 
which  goes  for  as  much  among  the  Katy-dids  as  among  men 
and  women.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  morning  that  Miss  Katy 
thought  must  have  been  made  on  purpose  for  her  to  enjoy 
herself  in.  There  had  been  a  patter  of  rain  the  night  be- 
fore, which  had  kept  the  leaves  awake  talking  to  each  other 
till  nearly  morning,  but  by  dawn  the  small  winds  had 
blown  brisk  little  puffs,  and  whisked  the  heavens  clear  and 
bright  with  their  tiny  wings,  as  you  have  seen  Susan  clear 
away  the  cobwebs  in  your  mamma's  parlor ;  and  so  now 
there  were  only  left  a  thousand  blinking,  burning  water- 
drops,  hanging  like  convex  mirrors  at  the  end  of  each  leaf, 
and  Miss  Katy  admired  herself  in  each  one. 

"Certainly  I  am  a  pretty  creature,"  she  said  to  herself; 
and  when  the  gallant  Colonel  said  something  about  being 
dazzled  by  her  beauty,  she  only  tossed  her  head  and  took 
it  as  quite  a  matter  of  course. 


4O  MISS   KATY-DID    AND    MISS    CRICKET. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Colonel,"  she  said,  "  I  am  thinking 
of  giving  a  party,  and  you  must  help  me  make  out  the 
lists." 

"My  dear,  you  make  me  the  happiest  of  Katy-dids." 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Katy-did,  drawing  an  azalia-leaf  towards 
her,  "let  us  see, — whom  shall  we  have?  The  Fireflies,  of 
course ;  everybody  wants  them,  they  are  so  brilliant ;  —  a 
little  unsteady,  to  be  sure,  but  quite  in  the  higher  circles." 

"Yes,  we  must  have  the   Fireflies,"  echoed  the  Colonel. 

"Well,  then,  —  and  the  Butterflies  and  the  Moths.  Now, 
there  's  a  trouble.  There  's  such  an  everlasting  tribe  of 
those  Moths ;  and  if  you  invite  dull  people  they  're  always 
sure  all  to  come,  every  one  of  them.  Still,  if  you  have 
the  Butterflies,  you  can't  leave  out  the  Moths. 

"Old  Mrs.  Moth  has  been  laid  up  lately  with  a  gastric 
fever,  and  that  may  keep  two  or  three  of  the  Misses  Moth 
at  home,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"Whatever  could  give  the  old  lady  such  a  turn?"  said 
Miss  Katy.  "I  thought  she  never  was  sick." 

"  I  suspect  it 's  high  living.  I  understand  she  and  her 
family  ate  up  a  whole  ermine  cape  last  month,  and  it  dis- 
agreed with  them. 

"For  my  part,  I  can't  conceive  how  the  Moths  can  live 
as  they  do,"  said  Miss  Katy,  with  a  face  of  disgust.  Why, 
I  could  no  more  eat  worsted  and  fur,  as  they  do — " 

"That  is   quite   evident   from   the    fairy-like   delicacy   of 


MISS   KATY-DID    AND    MISS   CRICKET.  41 

your  appearance,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  One  can  see  that  noth- 
ing so  gross  or  material  has  ever  entered  into  your  system." 

"I  'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Katy,  "mamma  says  she  don't 
know  what  does  keep  me  alive ;  half  a  dewdrop  and  a 
little  bit  of  the  nicest  part  of  a  rose-leaf,  I  assure  you, 
often  last  me  for  a  day.  But  we  are  forgetting  our  list. 
Let  's  see,  —  the  Fireflies,  Butterflies,  Moths.  The  Bees 
must  come,  I  suppose." 

"The  Bees  are  a  worthy  family,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"Worthy  enough,  but  dreadfully  humdrum,"  said  Miss 
Katy.  They  never  talk  about  anything  but  honey  and 
housekeeping ;  still,  they  are  a  class  of  people  one  cannot 
neglect." 

"Well,  then,  there  are  the  Bumble-Bees." 

"  O,  I  doat  on  them !  General  Bumble  is  one  of  the 
most  dashing,  brilliant  fellows  of  the  day." 

"I  think  he  is  shockingly  corpulent,"  said  Colonel  Katy- 
did, not  at  all  pleased  to  hear  him  praised;  —  "don't  you?" 

"  I  don't  know  but  he  is  a  little  stout,"  said  Miss  Katy ; 
"but  so  distinguished  and  elegant  in  his  manners,  —  some- 
thing martial  and  breezy  about  him." 

"  Well,  if  you  invite  the  Bumble-Bees  you  must  have 
the  Hornets." 

"Those  spiteful  Hornets,  — I  detest  them!" 

"Nevertheless,  dear  Miss  Katy,  one  does  not  like  to 
offend  the  Hornets." 


42  MISS   KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET. 

"No,  one  can't.  There  are  those  five  Misses  Hornet, — 
dreadful  old  maids !  —  as  full  of  spite  as  they  can  live. 
You  may  be  sure  they  will  every  one  come,  and  be  look- 
ing about  to  make  spiteful  remarks.  Put  down  the  Hor- 
nets, though." 

"  How  about  the  Mosquitos ! "  said  the  Colonel. 

"Those  horrid  Mosquitos,  —  they  are  dreadfully  plebeian! 
Can't  one  cut  them  ? " 

"Well,  dear  Miss  Katy,"  said  the  Colonel,  "if  you  ask 
my  candid  opinion  as  a  friend,  I  should  say  not.  There  's 
young  Mosquito,  who  graduated  last  year,  has  gone  into 
literature,  and*  is  connected  with  some  of  our  leading  pa- 
pers, and  they  say  he  carries  the  sharpest  pen  of  all  the 
writers.  It  won't  do  to  offend  him." 

"And  so  I  suppose  we  must  have  his  old  aunts,  and  all 
six  of  his  sisters,  and  all  his  dreadfully  common  relations." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  said  the  Colonel,  "but  one  must  pay 
one's  tax  to  society." 

Just  at  this  moment  'the  conference  was  interrupted  by 
a  visitor,  Miss  Keziah  Cricket,  who  came  in  with  her  work- 
bag  on  her  arm  to  ask  a  subscription  for  a  poor  family  of 
Ants  who  had  just  had  their  house  hoed  up  in  clearing  the 
garden-walks. 

"How  stupid  of  them,"  said  Katy,  "not  to  know  better 
than  to  put  their  house  in  the  garden-walk ;  that  's  just 
like  those  Ants!" 


MISS   KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET.  43 

"  Well,  they  are  in  great  trouble ;  all  their  stores  de- 
stroyed, and  their  father  killed,  —  cut  quite  in  two  by  a 
hoe." 

"  How  very  shocking !  I  don't  like  to  hear  of  such  dis- 
agreeable things,  —  it  affects  my  nerves  terribly.  Well,  I  'm 
sure  I  have  n't  anything  to  give.  Mamma  said  yesterday 
she  was  sure  she  did  n't  know  how  our  bills  were  to  be 
paid,  —  and  there  's  my  green  satin  with  point-lace  yet  to 
come  home."  And  Miss  Katy-did  shrugged  her  shoulders 
and  affected  to  be  very  busy  with  Colonel  Katy-did,  in 
just  the  way  that  young  ladies  sometimes  do  when  they 
wish  to  signify  to  visitors  that  they  had  better  leave. 

Little  Miss  Cricket  perceived  how  the  case  stood,  and 
so  hopped  briskly  off,  without  giving  herself  even  time  to 
be  offended.  "  Poor  extravagant  little  thing ! "  said  she  to 

herself,  "it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  ask  her." 

• 

"  Pray,  shall  you  invite  the  Crickets  ? "  said  Colonel 
Katy-did. 

"  Who  ?  I  ?  Why,  Colonel,  what  a  question  !  Invite 
the  Crickets  ?  Of  what  can  you  be  thinking  ? " 

"  And  shall  you  not  ask  the  Locusts,  or  the  Grass- 
hoppers ? " 

"  Certainly.  The  Locusts,  of  course,  —  a  very  old  and 
distinguished  family ;  and  the  Grasshoppers  are  pretty  well, 
and  ought  to  be  asked.  But  we  must  draw  a  line  some- 
where, —  and  the  Crickets !  why,  it  's  shocking  even  to 
think  of!" 


44  MISS    KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET. 

"I  thought  they  were  nice,  respectable  people." 
"O,  perfectly  nice   and   respectable, — very  good   people, 
in  fact,  so  far  as  that  goes.      But  then  you  must  see  the 
difficulty." 

"My  dear  cousin,  I  am  afraid  you  must  explain." 
"  Why,  their  color,  to  be  sure.      Don't  you  see  ? " 
« Oh  ! "   said   the    Colonel.      "  That  's   it,    is   it  ?      Excuse 
me,  but   I   have   been   living   in    France,   where   these   dis- 
tinctions   are    wholly   unknown,    and    I    have    not    yet    got 
myself  in  the  train  of  fashionable  ideas  here." 

"Well,  then,  let  me  teach  you,"  said  Miss  Katy.  "You 
know  we  republicans  go  for  no  distinctions  except  those 
created  by  Nature  herself,  and  we  found  our  rank  upon 
color,  because  that  is  clearly  a  thing  that  none  has  any 
hand  in  but  our  Maker.  You  see  ? " 

"  Yes ;  but  who  decides  what  color  shall  be  the  reigning 
cofor  ? " 

"  I  'm  surprised  to  hear  the  question !  The  only  true 
color  —  the  only  proper  one  —  is  our  color,  to  be  sure.  A 
lovely  pea-green  is  the  precise  shade  on  which  to  found 
aristocratic  distinction.  But  then  we  are  liberal ;  —  we  as- 
sociate with  the  Moths,  who  are  gray ;  with  the  Butterflies, 
who  are  blue-and-gold-colored ;  with  the  Grasshoppers,  yel- 
low and  brown  ;  —  and  society  would  become  dreadfully 
mixed  if  it  were  not  fortunately  ordered  that  the  Crickets 
are  black  as  jet.  The  fact  is,  that  a  class  to  be  looked 


MISS    KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET. 


45 


down  upon  is  necessary  to  all  elegant  society,  and  if  the 
Crickets   were   not   black,  we   could   not   keep   them  down, 


46  MISS    KATY-DID    AND    MISS   CRICKET. 

because,  as  everybody  knows,  they  are  often  a  great  deal 
cleverer  than  we  are.  They  have  a  vast  talent  for  music 
and  dancing;  they  are  very  quick  at  learning,  and  would 
be  getting  to  the  very  top  of  the  ladder  if  we  once  al- 
lowed them  to  climb.  But  their  being  black  is  a  conven- 
ience,—  because,  as  long  as  we  are  green  and  they  black, 
we  have  a  superiority  that  can  never  be  taken  from  us. 
Don't  you  see,  now  ? " 

"O  yes,  I  see  exactly,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"Now  that  Keziah  Cricket,  who  just  came  in  here,  is 
quite  a  musician,  and  her  old  father  plays  the  violin  beau- 
tifully ;  —  by  the  way,  we  might  engage  him  for  our  or- 
chestra." 

And  so  Miss  Katy's  ball  came  off,  and  the  performers 
kept  it  up  from  sundown  till  daybreak,  so  that  it  seemed 
as  if  every  leaf  in  the  forest  were  alive.  The  Katy-dids, 
and  the  Mosquitos,  and  'the  Locusts,  and  a  full  orchestra 
of  Crickets  made  the  air  perfectly  vibrate,  insomuch  that 
old  Parson  Too-Whit,  who  was  preaching  a  Thursday  even- 
ing lecture  to  a  very  small  audience,  announced  to  his 
hearers  that  he  should  certainly  write  a  discourse  against 
dancing  for  the  next  weekly  occasion. 

The  good  Doctor  was  even  with  his  word  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  gave  out  some  very  sonorous  discourses,  without 
in  the  least  stopping  the  round  of  gayeties  kept  up  by 


MISS   KATY-DID   AND    MISS    CRICKET.  47 

these  dissipated  Katy-dids,  which  ran  on,  night  after  night, 
till  the  celebrated  Jack  Frost  epidemic,  which  occurred 
somewhere  about  the  first  of  September. 

Poor  Miss  Katy,  with  her  flimsy  green  satin  and  point- 
lace,  was  one  of  the  first  victims,  and  fell  from  the  bough 
in  company  with  a  sad  shower  of  last  year's  leaves.  The 
worthy  Cricket  family,  however,  avoided  Jack  Frost  by 
emigrating  in  time  to  the  chimney-corner  of  a  nice  little 
cottage  that  had  been  built  in  the  wood  that  summer. 

There  good  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cricket,  with  sprightly 
Miss  Keziah  and  her  brothers  and  sisters,  found  a  warm 
and  welcome  home ;  and  when  the  storm  howled  without, 
and  lashed  the  poor  naked  trees,  the  Crickets  on  the  warm 
hearth  would  chirp  out  cheery  welcome  to  papa  as  he 
came  in  from  the  snowy  path,  or  mamma  as  she  sat  at 
her  work-basket. 

"  Cheep,  cheep,  cheep  !  "  little  Freddy  would  say.  "  Mam- 
ma, who  is  it  says  '  cheep '  ? " 

"Dear  Freddy,  it  's  our  own  dear  little  cricket,  who 
loves  us  and  comes  to  sing  to  us  when  the  snow  is  on 
the  ground." 

So  when  poor  Miss  Katy-did's  satin  and  lace  were  all 
swept  away,  the  warm  home-talents  of  the  Crickets  made 
for  them  a  welcome  refuge. 


MOTHER    MAGPIE'S    MISCHIEF. 


MOTHER  MAGPIE  was  about  the  busiest  char- 
acter.in  the  forest.  But  you  must  know  that  there 
is  a  great  difference  between  being  busy  and  being  indus- 
trious. One  may  be  very  busy  all  the  time,  and  yet  not 
in  the  least  industrious  ;  and  this  was  the  case  with  Mother 
Magpie. 

She  was  always  full  of  everybody's  business  but  her  own, 
—  up  and  down,  here  and  there,  everywhere  but  in  her 
own  nest,  knowing  every  one's  affairs,  telling  what  every- 
body had  been  doing  or  ought  to  do,  and  ready  to  cast 
her  advice  gratis  at  every  bird  and  beast  of  the  woods. 

Now  she  bustled  up  to  the  parsonage  at  the  top  of 
the  oak-tree,  to  tell  old  Parson  Too-Whit  what  she  thought 
he  ought  to  preach  for  his  next  sermon,  and  how  dreadful 
the  morals  of  the  parish  were  becoming.  Then,  having 
perfectly  bewildered  the  poor  old  gentleman,  who  was  al- 
ways sleepy  of  a  Monday  morning,  Mother  Magpie  would 
take  a  peep  into  Mrs.  Oriole's  nest,  sit  chattering  on  a 
bough  above,  and  pour  forth  floods  of  advice,  which,  poor 
little  Mrs.  Oriole  used  to  say  to  her  husband,  bewildered 
her  more  than  a  hard  northeast  storm. 

"Depend  upon  it,  my  dear,"   Mother  Magpie   would  say, 


MOTHER    MAGPIE  S    MISCHIEF.  49 

"that  this  way  of  building  your  nest,  swinging  like  an  old 
empty  stocking  from  a  bough,  is  n't  at  all  the  thing.  I 
never  built  one  so  in  my  life,  and  I  never  have  headaches. 
Now  you  complain  always  that  your  head  aches  whenever 
I  call  upon  you.  It  's  all  on  account  of  this  way  of 
swinging  and  swaying  about  in  such  an  absurd  manner." 

"But,  my  dear,"  piped  Mrs.  Oriole,  timidly,  "the  Orioles 
always  have  built  in  this  manner,  and  it  suits  our  consti- 
tution." 

"  A  fiddle  on  your  constitution !  How  can  you  tell  what 
agrees  with  your  constitution  unless  you  try  ?  You  own 
you  are  not  well ;  you  are  subject  to  headaches,  and  every 
physician  will  tell  you  that  a  tilting  motion  disorders  the 
stomach  and  acts  upon  the  brain.  Ask  old  Dr.  Kite.  I 
was  talking  with  him  about  your  case  only  yesterday,  and 
says  he,  '  Mrs.  Magpie,  I  perfectly  agree  with  you.' " 

"But  my  husband  prefers  this  style  of  building." 

"  That 's  only  because  he  is  n't  properly  instructed.  Pray, 
did  you  ever  attend  Dr.  Kite's  lectures  on  the  nervous 
system  ? " 

"No,  I  have  no  time  to  attend  lectures.  Who  would 
set  on  the  eggs  ? " 

"  Why,   your    husband,   to    be   sure ;    don't    he    take    his 
turn  in  setting  ?     If  he  don't,  he  ought  to.     I  shall  speak  to 
him  about  it.      My  husband  always   sets  regularly  half  the 
time,  that  I  might  have  time  to  go  about  and  exercise." 
4 


5O  MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF. 

"  O  Mrs.  Magpie,  pray  don't  speak  to  my  husband ;  he 
will  think  I  Ve  been  complaining." 

"  No,  no,  he  won't !  Let  me  alone.  I  understand  just 
how  to  say  the  thing.  I  Ve  advised  hundreds  of  young 
husbands  in  my  day,  and  I  never  give  offence." 

"But  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Magpie,  I  don't  want  any  inter- 
ference between  my  husband  and  me,  and  I  will  not  have 
it,"  says  Mrs.  Oriole,  with  her  little  round  eyes  flashing 
with  indignation. 

"  Don't  put  yourself  in  a  passion,  my  dear ;  the  more 
you  talk,  the  more  sure  I  am  that  your  nervous  system  is 
running  down,  or  you  would  n't  forget  good  manners  in  this 
way.  You  'd  better  take  my  advice,  for  I  understand  just 
what  to  do,"  —  and  away  sails  Mother  Magpie  ;  and  pres- 
ently young  Oriole  comes  home,  all  in  a  flutter. 

"  I  say,  my  dear,  if  you  will  persist  in  gossiping  over 
our  private  family  matters  with  that  old  Mother  Magpie  — " 

"  My  dear,  I  don't  gossip  ;  she  comes  and  bores  me  to 
death  with  talking,  and  then  goes  off  and  mistakes  what 
she  has  been  saying  for  what  I  said." 

"But  you  must  cut  her." 

"  I  try  to,  all  I  can ;  but  she  won't  be  cut. 

"  It  's  enough  to  make  a  bird  swear,"  said  Tommy  Oriole. 

Tommy  Oriole,  to  say  the  truth,  had  as  good  a  heart  as 
ever  beat  under  bird's  feathers ;  but  then  he  had  a  weakness 
for  concerts  and  general  society,  because  he  was  held  to  be, 


MOTHER    MAGPIES    MISCHIEF.  5  I 

by  all  odds,  the  handsomest  bird  in  the  woods,  and  sung 
like  an  angel ;  and  so  the  truth  was  he  did  n't  confine  him- 
self so  much  to  the  domestic  nest  as  Tom  Titmouse  or  Billy 
Wren.  But  he  determined  that  he  would  n't  have  old 
Mother  Magpie  interfering  with  his  affairs. 

"  The  fact  is,"  quoth  Tommy,  "  I  am  a  society  bird,  and 
Nature  has  marked  out  for  me  a  course  beyond  the  range 
of  the  commonplace,  and  my  wife  must  learn  to  accommodate. 
If  she  has  a  brilliant  husband,  whose  success  gratifies  her 
ambition  and  places  her  in  a  distinguished  public  position, 
she  must  pay  something  for  it.  I  'm  sure  Billy  Wren's  wife 
would  give  her  very  bill  to  see  her  husband  in  the  circles 
where  I  am  quite  at  home.  To  say  the  truth,  my  wife  was 
all  well  enough  content  till  old  Mother  Magpie  interfered. 
It  is  quite  my  duty  to  take  strong  ground,  and  show  that 
I  cannot  be  dictated  to." 

So,  after  this,  Tommy  Oriole  went  to  rather  more  con- 
certs, and  spent  less  time  at  home  than  ever  he  did  before, 
which  was  all  that  Mother  Magpie  effected  in  that  quarter. 
I  confess  this  was  very  bad  in  Tommy ;  but  then  birds  are 
no  better  than  men  in  domestic  matters,  and  sometimes  will 
take  the  most  unreasonable  courses,  if  a  meddlesome  Mag- 
pie gets  her  claw  into  their  nest. 

But  old  Mother  Magpie  had  now  got  a  new  business  in 
hand  in  another  quarter.  She  bustled  off  down  to  Water- 
dock  Lane,  where,  as  we  said  in  a  former  narrative,  lived 


52  MOTHER   MAGPIES    MISCHIEF. 

the  old  music-teacher,  Dr.  Bullfrog.  The  poor  old  Doctor 
was  a  simple-minded,  good,  amiable  creature,  who  had  played 
the  double-bass  and  led  the  forest  choir  on  all  public  occa- 
sions since  nobody  knows  when.  Latterly  some  youngsters 
had  arisen  who  sneered  at  his  performances  as  behind  the 
age.  In  fact,  since  a  great  city  had  grown  up  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  forest,  tribes  of  wandering  boys  broke  up  the  simple 
tastes  and  quiet  habits  which  old  Mother  Nature  had  always 
kept  up  in  those  parts.  They  pulled  the  young  checker- 
berry  before  it  even  had  time  to  blossom,  rooted  up  the 
sassafras  shrubs  and  gnawed  their  roots,  fired  off  guns  at 
the  birds,  and,  on  several  occasions  when  old  Dr.  Bullfrog 
was  leading  a  concert,  had  dashed  in  and  broken  up  the 
choir  by  throwing  stones. 

This  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  The  little  varlets  had  a 
way  of  jeering  at  the  simple  old  Doctor  and  his  concerts, 
and  mimicking  the  tones  of  his  bass-viol.  "There  you  go, 
Paddy-go-donk,  Paddy-go-donk  —  umph  —  chunk,"  some  ras- 
cal of  a  boy  would  shout,  while  poor  old  Bullfrog's  yellow 
spectacles  would  be  bedewed  with  tears  of  honest  indignation. 
In  time,  the  jeers  of  these  little  savages  began  to  tell  on 
the  society  in  the  forest,  and  to  corrupt  their  simple  man- 
ners ;  and  it  was  whispered  among  the  younger  and  more 
heavy  birds  and  squirrels,  that  old  Bullfrog  was  a  bore,  and 
that  it  was  time  to  get  up  a  new  style  of  music  in  the 
parish,  and  to  give  the  charge  of  it  to  some  more  modern 
performer. 


MOTHER    MAGPIES    MISCHIEF. 


53 


Poor  old  Dr.  Bullfrog  knew  nothing  of  this,  however,  and 
was  doing  his  simple  best,  in  peace,  when  Mother  Magpie 
called  in  upon  him,  one  morning. 


"Well,  neighbor,  how  unreasonable  people  are!  Who 
would  have  thought  that  the  youth  of  our  generation  should 
have  no  more  consideration  for  established  merit  ?  Now,  for 
my  part,  /  think  your  music-teaching  never  was  better ;  and 
as  for  our  choir,  I  maintain  constantly  that  it  never  was 
in  better  order,  but  —  Well,  one  may  wear  her  tongue  out, 
but.  one  can  never  make  these  young  folks  listen  to  reason." 


54. 


"I  really  don't  understand  you,  ma'am,"  said  poor  Dr. 
Bullfrog. 

"  What !  you  have  n't  heard  of  a  committee  that  is  going 
to  call  on  you,  to  ask  you  to  resign  the  care  of  the  parish 
music  ? " 

"Madam,"  said  Dr.  Bullfrog,  with  all  that  energy  of  tone 
for  which  he  was  remarkable,  "  I  don't  believe  it,  —  I  cant 
believe  it.  You  must  have  made  a  mistake." 

"  I  mistake !  No,  no,  my  good  friend ;  I  never  make 
mistakes.  What  I  know,  I  know  certainly.  Was  n't  it  I 
that  said  I  knew  there  was  an  engagement  between  Tim 
Chipmunk  and  Nancy  Nibble,  who  are  married  this  blessed 
day  ?  I  knew  that  thing  six  weeks  before  any  bird  or  beast 
in  our  parts ;  and  I  can  tell  you,  you  are  going  to  be 
scandalously  and  ungratefully  treated,  Dr.  Bullfrog." 

"  Bless  me,  we  shall  all  be  ruined ! "  said  Mrs.  Bullfrog ; 
"my  poor  husband  —  " 

"  O,  as  to  that,  if  you  take  things  in  time,  and  listen  to 
my  advice,"  said  Mother  Magpie,  "we  may  yet  pull  you 
through.  You  must  alter  your  style  a  little,  —  adapt  it  to 
modern  times.  Everybody  now  is  a  little  touched  with  the 
operatic  fever,  and  there  's  Tommy  Oriole  has  been  to 
New  Orleans  and  brought  back  a  touch  of  the  artistic.  If 
you  would  try  his  style  a  little,  —  something  Tyrolean,  you 
see." 

"Dear  madam,  consider  my  voice.  I  never  could  hit  the 
high  notes." 


MOTHER    MAGPIES    MISCHIEF.  55 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  It 's  all  practice  ;  Tommy  Oriole 
says  so.  Just  try  the  scales.  As  to  your  voice,  your  man- 
ner of  living  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  I  always  did 
tell  you  that  your  passion  for  water  injured  your  singing. 
Suppose  Tommy  Oriole  should  *sit  half  his  days  up  to  his 
hips  in  water,  as  you  do,  —  his  voice  would  be  as  hoarse 
and  rough  as  yours.  Come  up  on  the  bank,  and  learn  to 
perch,  as  we  birds  do.  We  are  the  true  musical  race." 

And  so,  poor  Mr.  Bullfrog  was  persuaded  to  forego  his 
pleasant  little  cottage  under  the  cat-tails,  where  his  green 
spectacles  and  honest  round  back  had  excited,  even  in  the 
minds  of  the  boys,  sentiments  of  respect  and  compassion. 
He  came  up  into  the  garden,  and  established  himself  under 
a  burdock,  and  began  to  practise  Italian  scales. 

The  result  was,  that  poor  old  Dr.  Bullfrog,  instead  of 
being  considered  as  a  respectable  old  bore,  got  himself  uni- 
versally laughed  at  for  aping  fashionable  manners.  Every 
bird  and  beast  in  the  forest  had  a  gibe  at  him ;  and  even 
old  Parson  Too-Whit  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  make 
him  a  pastoral  call,  and  admonish  him  about  courses  un- 
befitting his  age  and'  standing.  As  to  Mother  Magpie,  you 
may  be  sure  that  she  assured  every  one  how  sorry  she  was 
that  dear  old  Dr.  Bullfrog  had  made  such  a  fool  of  him- 
self; if  he  had  taken  her  advice,  he  would  have  kept  on 
respectably  as  a  nice  old  Bullfrog  should. 

But  the  tragedy  for  the  poor  old  music-teacher  grew  even 


56       ,  MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF. 

more  melancholy  in  its  termination  ;  for  one  day  as  he  was 
sitting  disconsolately  under  a  currant-bush  in  the  garden, 
practising  his  poor  old  notes  in  a  quiet  way,  thump  came 
a  great  blow  of  a  hoe,  which  nearly  broke  his  back. 

"  Hullo !  what  ugly  beast  have  we  got  here  ? "  said  Tom 
Noakes,  the  gardener's  boy.  "  Here,  here,  Wasp,  my  boy." 

What  a  fright  for  a  poor,  quiet,  old  Bullfrog,  as  little 
wiry,  wicked  Wasp  came  at  him,  barking  and  yelping.  He 
jumped  with  all  his  force  sheer  over  a  patch  of  bushes  into 
the  river,  and  swam  back  to  his  old  home  among  the  cat- 
tails. And  always  after  that  it  was  observable  that  he  was 
very  low-spirited,  and  took  very  dark  views  of  life ;  but 
nothing  made  him  so  angry  as  any  allusion  to  Mother 
Magpie,  of  whom,  from  that  time,  he  never  spoke  except 
as  Old  Mother  Mischief. 


THE   SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE   IN   A   HOUSE. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  gentleman  went  out  into  a  great 
forest,  and  cut  away  the  trees,  and  built  there  a  very 
nice  little  cottage.  It  was  set  very  low  on  the  ground, 
and  had  very  large  bow-windows,  and  so  much  of  it  was 
glass  that  one  could  look  through  it  on  every  side  and  see 
what  was  going  on  in  the  forest.  You  could  see  the  shad- 
ows of  the  fern-leaves,  as  they  flickered  and  wavered  over 
the  ground,  and  the  scarlet  partridge-berry  and  wintergreen 
plums  that  matted  round  the  roots  of  the  trees,  and  the 
bright  spots  of  sunshine  that  fell  through  their  branches 
and  went  dancing  about  among  the  bushes  and  leaves  at 
their  roots.  You  could  see  the  little  chipping  sparrows  and 
thrushes  and  robins  and  bluebirds  building  their  nests  here 
and  there  among  the  branches,  and  watch  them  from  day 
to  day  as  they  laid  their  eggs  and  hatched  their  young. 
You  could  also  see  red  squirrels,  and  gray  squirrels,  and 
little  striped  chip-squirrels,  darting  and  springing  about, 
here  and  there  and  everywhere,  running  races  with  each 
other  from  bough  to  bough,  and  chattering  at  each  other 
in  the  gayest  possible  manner. 

You  may  be  sure   that  such  a  strange   thing   as   a  great 
mortal   house   for  human   beings  to   live   in   did   not   come 


58  THE    SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE    IN   A    HOUSE. 

into  this  wild  wood  without  making  quite  a  stir  and  excite- 
ment among  the  inhabitants  that  lived  there  before.  All 
the  time  it  was  building,  there  was  the  greatest  possible 
commotion  in  the  breasts  of  all  the  older  population  ;  and 
there  was  n't  even  a  black  ant,  or  a  cricket,  that  did  not 
have  his  own  opinion  about  it,  and  did  not  tell  the  other 
ants  and  crickets  just  what  he  thought  the  world  was 
coming  to  in  consequence. 

Old  Mrs.  Rabbit  declared  that  the  hammering  and  pound- 
ing made  her  nervous,  and  gave  her  most  melancholy  fore- 
bodings of  evil  times.  "  Depend  upon  it,  children,"  she 
said  to  her  long-eared  family,  "no  good  will  come  to  us 
from  this  establishment.  Where  man  is,  there  comes  always 
trouble  for  us  poor  rabbits." 

The  old  chestnut-tree,  that  grew  on  the  edge  of  the 
woodland  ravine,  drew  a  great  sigh  which  shook  all  his 
leaves,  and  expressed  it  as  his  conviction  that  no  good 
would  ever  come  of  it,  — a  conviction  that  at  once  struck 
to  the  heart  of  every  chestnut-burr.  The  squirrels  talked 
together  of  the  dreadful  state  of  things  that  would  ensue. 
"Why!"  said  old  Father  Gray,  "it's  evident  that  Nature 
made  the  nuts  for  us ;  but  one  of  these  great  human 
creatures  will  carry  off  and  gormandize  upon  what  would 
keep  a  hundred  poor  families  of  squirrels  in  comfort."  Old 
Ground-mole  said  it  did  not  require  very  sharp  eyes  to  see 
into  the  future,  and  it  would  just  end  in  bringing  down 


THE   SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE    IN   A    HOUSE.  59 

the  price  of  real  estate  in  the  whole  vicinity,  so  that  every 
decent-minded  and  respectable  quadruped  would  be  obliged 
to  move  away ;  —  for  his  part,  he  was  ready  to  sell  out  for 
anything  he  could  get.  The  bluebirds  and  bobolinks,  it  is 
true,  took  more  cheerful  views  of  matters ;  but  then,  as  old 
Mrs.  Ground-mole  observed,  they  were  a  flighty  set,  —  half 
their  time  careering  and  dissipating  in  the  Southern  States, 
—  and  could  not  be  expected  to  have  that  patriotic  attach- 
ment to  their  native  soil  that  those  had  who  had  grubbed 
in  it  from  their  earliest  days. 

"This  race  of  man,"  said  the  old  chestnut-tree,  "is  never 
ceasing  in  its  restless  warfare  on  Nature.  In  our  forest 
solitudes,  hitherto,  how  peacefully,  how  quietly,  how  regu- 
larly has  everything  gone  on !  Not  a  flower  has  missed 
its  appointed  time  of  blossoming,  or  failed  to  perfect  its 
fruit.  No  matter  how  hard  has  been  the  winter,  how  loud 
the  winds  have  roared,  and  how  high  the  snow-banks  have 
been  piled,  all  has  come  right  again  in  spring.  Not  the 
least  root  has  lost  itself  under  the  snows,  so  as  not  to  be 
ready  with  its  fresh  leaves  and  blossoms  when  the  sun 
returns  to  melt  the  frosty  chains  of  winter.  We  have 
storms  sometimes  that  threaten  to  shake  everything  to 
pieces,  —  the  thunder  roars,  the  lightning  flashes,  and  the 
winds  howl  and  beat ;  but,  when  all  is  past,  everything 
comes  out  better  and  brighter  than  before,  —  not  a  bird  is 
killed,  not  the  frailest  flower  destroyed.  But  man  comes, 


6O  THE   SQUIRRELS    THAT    LIVE    IN    A    HOUSE. 

and  in  one  day  he  will  make  a  desolation  that  centuries 
cannot  repair.  Ignorant  boor  that  he  is,  and  all  incapable 
of  appreciating  the  glorious  works  of  Nature,  it  seems  to 
be  his  glory  to  be  able  to  destroy  in  a  few  hours  what  it 
was  the  work  of  ages  to  produce.  The  noble  oak,  that  has 
been  cut  away  to  build  this  contemptible  human  dwelling, 
had  a  life  older  and  wiser  than  that  of  any  man  in  this 
country.  That  tree  has  seen  generations  of  men  come  and 
go.  It  was  a  fresh  young  tree  when  Shakespeare  was 
born  ;  it  was  hardly  a  middle-aged  tree  when  he  died ;  it 
was  growing  here  when  the  first  ship  brought  the  white 
men  to  our  shores,  and  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  those 
whom  they  call  bravest,  wisest,  strongest,  —  warriors,  states- 
men, orators,  and  poets,  —  have  been  born,  have  grown  up, 
lived,  and  died,  while  yet  it  has  outlived  them  all.  It  has 
seen  more  wisdom  than  the  best  of  them  ;  but  two  or  three 
hours  of  brutal  strength  sufficed  to.  lay  it  low.  Which  of 
these  dolts  could  make  a  tree  ?  I  'd  like  to  see  them  do 
anything  like  it.  How  noisy  and  clumsy  are  all  their  move- 
ments, —  chopping,  pounding,  rasping,  hammering  !  And, 
after  all,  what  do  they  build?  In  the  forest  we  do  every- 
thing so  quietly.  A  tree  would  be  ashamed  of  itself  that 
could  not  get  its  growth  without  making  such  a  noise  and 
dust  and  fuss.  Our  life  is  the  perfection  of  good  manners. 
For  my  part,  I  feel  degraded  at  the  mere  presence  of  these 
human  beings  ;  but,  alas !  I  am  old  ;  —  a  hollow  place  at 


THE    SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE    IN    A   HOUSE.  6 1 

my  heart  warns  me  of  the  progress  of  decay,  and  probably 
it  will  be  seized  upon  by  these  rapacious  creatures  as  an 
excuse  for  laying  me  as  low  as  my  noble  green  brother." 

In  spite  of  all  this  disquiet  about  it,  the  little  cottage 
grew  and  was  finished.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
pretty  paper,  the  floors  carpeted  with  pretty  carpets ;  and, 
in  fact,  when  it  was  all  arranged,  and  the  garden  walks 
laid  out,  and  beds  of  flowers  planted  around,  it  began  to 
be  confessed,  even  among  the  most  critical,  that  it  was 
not  after  all  so  bad  a  thing  as  was  to  have  been  feared. 

A  black  ant  went  in  one  day  and  made  a  tour  of  ex- 
ploration up  and  down,  over  chairs  and  tables,  up  the 
ceilings  and  down  again,  and,  coming  out,  wrote  an  arti- 
cle for  the  Crickets'  Gazette,  in  which  he  described  the 
new  abode  as  a  veritable  palace.  Several  butterflies  flut- 
tered in  and  sailed  about  and  were  wonderfully  delighted, 
and  then  a  bumble-bee  and  two  or  three  honey-bees,  who 
expressed  themselves  well  pleased  with  the  house,  but  more 
especially  enchanted  with  the  garden.  In  fact,  when  it  was 
found  that  the  proprietors  were  very  fond  of  the  rural  soli- 
tudes of  Nature,  and  had  come  out  there  for  the  purpose 
of  enjoying  them  undisturbed,  —  that  they  watched  and 
spared  the  anemones,  and  the  violets,  and  bloodroots,  and 
dog's-tooth  violets,  and  little  woolly  rolls  of  fern  that  began 
to  grow  up  under  the  trees  in  spring,  —  that  they  never 
allowed  a  gun  to  be  fired  to  scare  the  birds,  and  watched 


62        THE  SQUIRRELS  THAT  LIVE  IN  A  HOUSE. 

the  building  of  their  nests  with  the  greatest  interest, — 
then  an  opinion  in  favor  of  human  beings  began  to  gain 
ground,  and  every  cricket  and  bird  and  beast  was  loud 
in  their  praise. 

"Mamma,"  said  young  Tit-bit,  a  frisky  young  squirrel, 
to  his  mother  one  day,  "  why  won't  you  let  Frisky  and  me 
go  into  that  pretty  new  cottage  to  play  ? " 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  who  was  a  very  wary  and 
careful  old  squirrel,  "  how  can  you  think  of  it  ?  The  race 
of  man  are  full  of  devices  for  traps  and  pitfalls,  and  who 
could  say  what  might  happen,  if  you  put  yourself  in  their 
power?  If  you  had  wings  like  the  butterflies  and  bees, 
you  might  fly  in  and  out  again,  and  so  gratify  your  curi- 
osity ;  but,  as  matters  stand,  it 's  best  for  you  to  keep  well 
out  of  their  way." 

"  But,  mother,  there  is  such  a  nice,  good  lady  lives  there ! 
I  believe  she  is  a  good  fairy,  and  she  seems  to  love  us  all 
so ;  she  sits  in  the  bow-window  and  watches  us  for  hours, 
and  she  scatters  corn  all  round  at  the  roots  of  the  tree 
for  us  to  eat." 

"She  is  nice  enough,"  said  the  old  mother-squirrel,  "if 
you  keep  far  enough  off;  but  I  tell  you,  you  can't  be  too 
careful." 

Now  this  good  fairy  that  the  squirrels  discoursed  about 
was  a  nice  little  old  lady  that  the  children  used  to  call 
Aunt  Esther,  and  she  was  a  dear  lover  of  birds  and  squir- 


THE   SQUIRRELS    THAT   LIVE    IN   A   HOUSE.  63 

rels,  and  all  sorts  of  animals,  and  had  studied  their  little 
ways  till  she  knew  just  what  would  please  them ;  and  so 
she  would  every  day  throw  out  crumbs  for  the  sparrows, 
and  little  bits  of  bread  and  wool  and  cotton  to  help  the 
birds  that  were  building  their  nests,  and  would  scatter  corn 
and  nuts  for  the  squirrels  ;  and  while  she  sat  at  her  work 
in  the  bow-window  she  would  smile  to  see  the  birds  fly- 
ing away  with  the  wool,  and  the  squirrels  nibbling  their 
nuts.  After  a  while  the  birds  grew  so  tame  that  they 
would  hop  into  the  bow-window,  and  eat  their  crumbs  off 
the  carpet. 

"  There,  mamma,"  said  Tit-bit  and  Frisky,  "  only  see ! 
Jenny  Wren  and  Cock  Robin  have  been  in  at  the  bow- 
window,  and  it  did  n't  hurt  them,  and  why  can't  we  go  ? " 

"  Well,  my  dears,"  said  old  Mother  Squirrel,  "  you  must 
do  it  very  carefully :  never  forget  that  you  have  n't  wings 
like  Jenny  Wren  and  Cock  Robin." 

So  the  next  day  Aunt  Esther  laid  a  train  of  corn  from 
the  roots  of  the  trees  to  the  bow-window,  and  then  from 
the  bow-window  to  her  work-basket,  which  stood  on  the 
floor  beside  her ;  and  then  she  put  quite  a  handful  of 
corn  in  the  work-basket,  and  sat  down  by  it,  and  seemed 
intent  on  her  sewing.  Very  soon,  creep,  creep,  creep, 
came  Tit-bit  and  Frisky  to  the  window,  and  then  into 
the  room,  just  as  sly  and  as  still  as  could  be,  and  Aunt 
Lsther  sat  just  like  a  statue  for  fear  of  disturbing  them. 


64  THE    SQUIRRELS    THAT    LIVE    IN    A    HOUSE. 

They  looked  all  around  in  high  glee,  and  when  they  came 
to  the  basket  it  seemed  to  them  a  wonderful  little  summer- 
house,  made  on  purpose  for  them  to  play  in.  They  nosed 
about  in  it,  and  turned  over  the  scissors  and  the  needle- 
book,  and  took  a  nibble  at  her  white  wax,  and  jostled  the 
spools,  meanwhile  stowing  away  the  corn  each  side  of  their 
little  chops,  till  they  both  of  them  looked  as  if  they  had 
the  mumps. 

At  last  Aunt  Esther  put  out  her  hand  to  touch  them, 
when,  whisk-frisk,  out  they  went,  and  up  the  trees,  chat- 
tering and  laughing  before  she  had  time  even  to  wink. 

But  after  this  they  used  to  come  in  every  day,  and  when 
she  put  corn  in  her  hand  and  held  it  very  still  they  would 
eat  out  of  it ;  and,  finally,  they  would  get  into  her  hand, 
until  one  day  she  gently  closed  it  over  them,  and  Frisky 
and  Tit-bit  were  fairly  caught. 

O,  how  their  hearts  beat !  but  the  good  fairy  only  spoke 
gently  to  them,  and  soon  unclosed  her  hand  and  let  them 
go  again.  So,  day  after  day,  they  grew  to  have  more  and 
more  faith  in  her,  till  they  would  climb  into  her  work-basket, 
sit  on  her  shoulder,  or  nestle  away  in  her  lap  as  she  sat 
sewing.  They  made  also  long  exploring  voyages  all  over  the 
house,  up  and  through  all  the  chambers,  till  finally,  I  grieve 
to  say,  poor  Frisky  came  to  an  untimely  end  by  being 
drowned  in  the  water-tank  at  the  top  of  the  house. 

The  dear  good  fairy  passed  away  from  the  house  in  time, 


THE   SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE    IN   A    HOUSE. 


65 


and  went  to  a  land  where  the  flowers  never  fade,  and  the 
birds  never  die ;  but  the  squirrels  still  continue  to  make 
the  place  a  favorite  resort. 

"In  fact,  my  dear,"  said  old  Mother  Red  one  winter  to 
her  mate,  "what  is  the  use  of  one's  living  in  this  cold,  hol- 
low tree,  when  these  amiable  people  have  erected  this  pretty 
cottage  where  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  us  and  them  too  ? 
Now  I  have  examined  between  the  eaves,  and  there  is  a 
charming  place  where  we  can  store  our  nuts,  and  where 
we  can  whip  in  and  out  of  the  garret,  and  have  the  free 
range  of  the  house ;  and,  say  what  you  will,  these  humans 
5 


66  THE    SQUIRRELS   THAT   LIVE    IN   A    HOUSE. 

have  delightful  ways  of  being  warm  and  comfortable  in 
winter." 

So  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Red  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  cottage, 
and  had  no  end  of  nuts  and  other  good  things  stored  up 
there.  The  trouble  of  all  this  was,  that,  as  Mrs.  Red  was 
a  notable  body,  and  got  up  to  begin  her  housekeeping 
operations,  and  woke  up  all  her  children,  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  good  people  often  were  disturbed  by  a 
great  rattling  and  fuss  in  the  walls,  while  yet  it  seemed 
dark  night.  Then  sometimes,  too,  I  grieve  to  say,  Mrs. 
Squirrel  would  give  her  husband  vigorous  curtain  lectures 
in  the  night,  which  made  him  so  indignant  that  he  would 
rattle  off  to  another  quarter  of  the  garret  to  sleep  by  him- 
self; and  all  this  broke  the  rest  of  the  worthy  people  who 
built  the  house. 

What  is  to  be  done  about  this  we  don't  know.  What 
would  you  do  about  it  ?  Would  you  let  the  squirrels  live 
in  your  house,  or  not  ?  When  our  good  people  come  down 
of  a  cold  winter  morning,  and  see  the  squirrels  dancing  and 
frisking  down  the  trees,  and  chasing  each  other  so  merrily 
over  the  garden-chair  between  them,  or  sitting  with  their 
tails  saucily  over  their  backs,  they  look  so  jolly  and  jaunty 
and  pretty  that  they  almost  forgive  them  for  disturbing 
their  night's  rest,  and  think  that  they  will  not  do  anything 
to  drive  them  out  of  the  garret  to-day.  And  so  it  goes 
on ;  but  how  long  the  squirrels  will  rent  the  cottage  in  this 
fashion,  I  'm  sure  I  dare  not  undertake  to  say. 


HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ. 

A  T  Rye  Beach,  during  our  summer's  vacation,  there 
•*  ^"  came,  as  there  always  will  to  seaside  visitors,  two  or 
three  cold,  chilly,  rainy  days,  —  days  when  the  skies  that 
long  had  not  rained  a  drop  seemed  suddenly  to  bethink 
themselves  of  their  remissness,  and  to  pour  down  water, 
not  by  drops,  but  by  pailfuls.  The  chilly  wind  blew  and 
whistled,  the  water  dashed  along  the  ground,  and  careered 
in  foamy  rills  along  the  roadside,  and  the  bushes  bent 
beneath  the  constant  flood.  It  was  plain  that  there  was 
to  be  no  sea-bathing  on  such  a  day,  no  walks,  no  rides  ; 
and  so,  shivering  and  drawing  our  blanket-shawls  close 
about  us,  we  sat  down  to  the  window  to  watch  the  storm 
outside.  The  rose-bushes  under  the  window  hung  dripping 
under  their  load  of  moisture,  each  spray  shedding  a  con- 
stant shower  on  the  spray  below  it.  On  one  of  these 
lower  sprays,  under  the  perpetual  drip,  what  should  we 
see  but  a  poor  little  humming-bird,  drawn  up  into  the 
tiniest  shivering  ball,  and  clinging  with  a  desperate  grasp 
to  his  uncomfortable  perch.  A  humming-bird  we  knew 
him  to  be  at  once,  though  his  feathers  were  so  matted  and 
glued  down  by  the  rain  that  he  looked  not  much  bigger 
than  a  honey-bee,  and  as  different  as  possible  from  fche 


68  HUM,   THE   SON    OF   BUZ. 

smart,  pert,  airy  little  character  that  we  had  so  often  seen 
flirting  with  the  flowers.  He  was  evidently  a  humming- 
bird in  adversity,  and  whether  he  ever  would  hum  again 
looked  to  us  exceedingly  doubtful.  Immediately,  however, 
we  sent  out  to  have  him  taken  in.  When  the  friendly 
hand  seized  him,  he  gave  a  little,  faint,  watery  squeak,  evi- 
dently thinking  that  his  last  hour  was  come,  and  that  grim 
Death  was  about  to  carry  him  off  to  the  land  of  dead 
birds.  What  a  time  we  had  reviving  him,  —  holding  the 
little  wet  thing  in  the  warm  hollow  of  our  hands,  and 
feeling  him  shiver  and  palpitate !  His  eyes  were  fast 
closed ;  his  tiny  claws,  which  looked  slender  as  cobwebs, 
were  knotted  close  to  his  body,  and  it  was  long  before  one 
could  feel  the  least  motion  in  them.  Finally,  to  our  great 
joy,  we  felt  a  brisk  little  kick,  and  then  a  flutter  of  wings, 
and  then  a  determined  peck  of  the  beak,  which  showed 
that  there  was  some  bird  left  in  him  yet,  and  that  he 
meant  at  any  rate  to  find  out  where  he  was. 

Unclosing  our  hands  a  small  space,  out  popped  the  lit- 
tle head  with  a  pair  of  round  brilliant  eyes.  Then  we 
bethought  ourselves  of  feeding  him,  and  forthwith  prepared 
him  a  stiff  glass  of  sugar  and  water,  a  drop  of  which  we 
held  to  his  bill.  After  turning  his  head  attentively,  like 
a  bird  who  knew  what  he  was  about  and  didn't  mean  to 
be  chaffed,  he  briskly  put  out  a  long,  flexible  tongue, 
slightly  forked  at  the  end,  and  licked  off  the  comfortable 


HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ.  69 

beverage  with  great  relish.  Immediately  he  was  pronounced 
out  of  danger  by  the  small  humane  society  which  had  un- 
dertaken the  charge  of  his  restoration,  and  we  began  to 
cast  about  for  getting  him  a  settled  establishment  in  our 
apartment.  I  gave  up  my  work-box  to  him  for  a  sleeping- 
room,  and  it  was  medically  ordered  that  he  should  take 
a  nap.  So  we  filled  the  box  with  cotton,  and  he  was 
formally  put  to  bed  with  a  folded  cambric  handkerchief 
round  his  neck,  to  keep  him  from  beating  his  wings.  Out 
of  his  white  wrappings  he  looked  forth  green  and  grave 
as  any  judge  with  his  bright  round  eyes.  Like  a  bird  of 
discretion,  he  seemed  to  understand  what  was  being  done 
to  him,  and  resigned  himself  sensibly  to  go  to  sleep. 

The  box  was  covered  with  a  sheet  of  paper  perforated 
with  holes  for  purposes  of  ventilation ;  for  even  humming- 
birds have  a  little  pair  of  lungs,  and  need  their  own  little 
portion  of  air  to  fill  them,  so  that  they  may  make  bright 
scarlet  little  drops  of  blood  to  keep  life's  fire  burning  in 
their  tiny  bodies.  Our  bird's  lungs  manufactured  bril- 
liant blood,  as  we  found  out  by  experience  ;  for  in  his 
first  nap  he  contrived  to  nestle  himself  into  the  cotton  of 
which  his  bed  was  made,  and  to  get  more  of  it  than  he 
needed  into  his  long  bill.  We  pulled  it  out  as  carefully 
as  we  could,  but  there  came  out  of  his  bill  two  round, 
bright,  scarlet,  little  drops  of  blood.  Our  chief  medical 
authority  looked  grave,  pronounced  a  probable  hemor- 


7O  HUM,    THE   SON    OF    BUZ. 

rhage  from  the  lungs,  and  gave  him  over  at  once.  We, 
less  scientific,  declared  that  we  had  only  cut  his  little 
tongue  by  drawing  out  the  filaments  of  cotton,  and  that  he 
would  do  well  enough  in  time,  —  as  it  afterward  appeared 
he  did,  —  for  from  that  day  there  was  no  more  bleeding. 
In  the  course  of  the  second  day  he  began  to  take  short 
flights  about  the  room,  though  he  seemed  to  prefer  to 
return  to  us,  —  perching  on  our  fingers  or  heads  or 
shoulders,  and  sometimes  choosing  to  sit  in  this  way 
for  half  an  hour  at  a  time.  "These  great  giants,"  he 
seemed  to  say  to  himself,  "  are  not  bad  people  after  all ; 
they  have  a  comfortable  way  with  them  ;  how  nicely  they 
dried  and  warmed  me  !  Truly  a  bird  might  do  worse  than 
to  live  with  them." 

So  he  made  up  his  mind  to  form  a  fourth  in  the  little 
company  of  three  that  usually  sat  and  read,  worked  and 
sketched,  in  that  apartment,  and  we  christened  him  "  Hum, 
the  son  of  Buz."  He  became  an  individuality,  a  character, 
whose  little  doings  formed  a  part  of  every  letter,  and  some 
extracts  from  these  will  show  what  some  of  his  little  ways 
were. 

"  Hum  has  learned  to  sit  upon  my  finger,  and  eat  his 
sugar  and  water  out  of  a  teaspoon  with  most  Christian-like 
decorum.  He  has  but  one  weakness, — he  will  occasionally 
jump  into  the  spoon  and  sit  in  his  sugar  and  water,  and 
then  appear  to  wonder  where  it  goes  to.  His  plumage  is 


HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ.  7 1 

in  rather  a  drabbled  state,  owing  to  these  performances. 
I  have  sketched  him  as  he  sat  to-day  on  a  bit  of  Spiraea 
which  I  brought  in  for  him.  When  absorbed  in  reflection, 
he  sits  with  his  bill  straight  up  in  the  air,  as  I  have 

drawn  him.  Mr.  A reads  Macaulay  to  us,  and  you 

should  see  the  wise  air  with  which,  perched  on  Jenny's 
thumb,  he  cocked  his  head  now  one  side  and  then  the 
other,  apparently  listening  with  most  critical  attention.  His 
confidence  in  us  seems  unbounded ;  he  lets  us  stroke  his 
head,  smooth  his  feathers,  without  a  flutter ;  and  is  never 
better  pleased  than  sitting,  as  he  has  been  doing  all  this 
while,  on  my  hand,  turning  up  his  bill,  and  watching  my 
face  with  great  edification. 

"I  have  just  been  having  a  sort  of  maternal  struggle  to 
make  him  go  to  bed  in  his  box  ;  but  he  evidently  consid- 
ers himself  sufficiently  convalescent  to  make  a  stand  for  his 
rights  as  a  bird,  and  so  scratched  indignantly  out  of  his 
wrappings,  and  set  himself  up  to  roost  on  the  edge  of  the 
box,  with  an  air  worthy  of  a  turkey,  at  the  very  least. 
Having  brought  in  a  lamp,  he  has  opened  his  eyes  round 
and  wide,  and  sits  cocking  his  little  head  at  me  reflect- 
ively." 

When  the  weather  cleared  away,  and  the  sun  came  out 
bright,  Hum  became  entirely  well,  and  seemed  resolved  to 
take  the  measure  of  his  new  life  with  us.  Our  windows 
were  closed  in  the  lower  part  of  the  sash  by  frames  with 


72  HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ. 

mosquito  gauze,  so  that  the  sun  and  air  found  free  admis- 
sion, and  yet  our  little  rover  could  not  pass  out.  On  the 
first  sunny  day  he  took  an  exact  survey  of  our  apartment 
from  ceiling  to  floor,  humming  about,  examining  every 
point  with  his  bill,  —  all  the  crevices,  mouldings,  each  little 
indentation  in  the  bed-posts,  each  window-pane,  each  chair 
and  stand ;  and,  as  it  was  a  very  simply  furnished  seaside 
apartment,  his  scrutiny  was  soon  finished.  We  wondered, 
at  first,  what  this  was  all  about ;  but,  on  watching  him 
more  closely,  we  found  that  he  was  actively  engaged  in 
getting  his  living,  by  darting  out  his  long  tongue  hither 
and  thither,  and  drawing  in  all  the  tiny  flies  and  insects 
which  in  summer-time  are  to  be  found  in  an  apartment. 
In  short,  we  found  that,  though  the  nectar  of  flowers  was 
his  dessert,  yet  he  had  his  roast  beef  and  mutton-chop  to 
look  after,  and  that  his  bright,  brilliant  blood  was  not 
made  out  of  a  simple  vegetarian  diet.  Very  shrewd  and 
keen  he  was,  too,  in  measuring  the  size  of  insects  before 
he  attempted  to  swallow  them.  The  smallest  class  were 
whisked  off  with  lightning  speed  ;  but  about  larger  ones  he 
would  sometimes  wheel  and  hum  for  some  minutes,  dart- 
ing hither  and  thither,  and  surveying  them  warily ;  and  if 
satisfied  that  they  could  be  carried,  he  would  come  down 
with  a  quick,  central  dart  which  would  finish  the  unfortu- 
nate at  a  snap.  The  larger  flies  seemed  to  irritate  him, — 
especially  when  they  intimated  to  him  that  his  plumage 


HUM,   THE    SON    OF    BUZ.  73 

was  sugary,  by  settling  <  on  his  wings  and  tail ;  when  he 
would  lay  about  him  spitefully,  wielding  his  bill  like  a 
sword.  A  grasshopper  that  strayed  in,  and  was  sunning 
himself  on  the  window-seat,  gave  him  great  discomposure. 
Hum  evidently  considered  him  an  intruder,  and  seemed  to 
long  to  make  a  dive  at  him ;  but,  with  characteristic  pru- 
dence, confined  himself  to  threatening  movements,  which 
did  not  exactly  hit.  He  saw  evidently  that  he  could  not 
swallow  him  whole,  and  what  might  ensue  from  trying 
him  piecemeal  he  wisely  forbore  to  essay. 

Hum  had  his  own  favorite  places  and  perches.  From 
the  first  day  he  chose  for  his  nightly  roost  a  towel-line 
which  had  been  drawn  across  the  corner  over  the  wash- 
stand,  where  he  every  night  established  himself  with  one 
claw  in  the  edge  of  the  towel  and  the  other  clasping  the 
line,  and,  ruffling  up  his  feathers  till  he  looked  like  a  little 
chestnut-burr,  he  would  resign  himself  to  the  soundest  sleep. 
He  did  not  tuck  his  head  under  his  wing,  but  seemed  to 
sink  it  down  between  his  shoulders,  with  his  bill  almost 
straight  up  in  the  air.  One  evening  one  of  us,  going  to 
use  the  towel,  jarred  the  line,  and  soon  after  found  that 
Hum  had  been  thrown  from  his  perch,  and  was  hanging 
head  downward,  fast  asleep,  still  clinging  to  the  line.  An- 
other evening,  being  discomposed  by  somebody  coming  to 
the  towel-line  after  he  had  settled  himself,  he  fluttered  off; 
but  so  sleepy  that  he  had  not  discretion  to  poise  himself 


74  HUM,    THE   SON    OF   BUZ. 

again,  and  was  found  clinging,  like  a  little  bunch  of  green 
floss  silk,  to  the  mosquito  netting  of  the  window. 

A  day  after  this  we  brought  in  a  large  green  bough,  and 
put  it  up  over  the  looking-glass.  Hum  noticed  it  before  it 
had  been  there  five  minutes,  flew  to  it,  and  began  a  regu- 
lar survey,  perching  now  here,  now  there,  till  he  seemed  to 
find  a  twig  that  exactly  suited  him ;  and  after  that  he 
roosted  there  every  night.  Who  does  not  see  in  this 
change  all  the  signs  of  reflection  and  reason  that  are 
shown  by  us  in  thinking  over  our  circumstances,  and  try- 
ing to  better  them  ?  It  seemed  to  say  in  so  many  words : 
"  That  towel-line  is  an  unsafe  place  for  a  bird ;  I  get 
frightened,  and  wake  from  bad  dreams  to  find  myself  head 
downwards  ;  so  I  will  find  a  better  roost  on  this  twig." 

When  our  little  Jenny  one  day  put  on  a  clean  white 
muslin  gown  embellished  with  red  sprigs,  Hum  flew  towards 
her,  and  with  his  bill  made  instant  examination  of  these 
new  appearances ;  and  one  day,  being  very  affectionately 
disposed,  perched  himself  on  her  shoulder,  and  sat  some 

time.      On  another  occasion,  while  Mr.  A was  reading, 

Hum  established  himself  on  the  top  of  his  head  just  over 
the  middle  of  his  forehead,  in  the  precise  place  where  our 
young  belles  have  lately  worn  stuffed  humming-birds,  mak- 
ing him  look  as  if  dressed  out  for  a  party.  Hum's  most 
favorite  perch  was  the  back  of  the  great  rocking-chair,  which, 
being  covered  by  a  tidy,  gave  some  hold  into  which  he 


HUM,   THE    SON    OF    BUZ.  75 

could  catch  his  little  claws.  There  he  would  sit,  balancing 
himself  cleverly  if  its  occupant  chose  to  swing  to  and  fro, 
and  seeming  to  be  listening  to  the  conversation  or  reading. 

Hum  had  his  different  moods,  like  human  beings.  On 
cold,  cloudy,  gray  days  he  appeared  to  be  somewhat  de- 
pressed in  spirits,  hummed  less  about  the  room,  and  sat 
humped  up  with  his  feathers  ruffled,  looking  as  much'  like 
a  bird  in  a  great-coat  as  possible.  But  on  hot,  sunny  days, 
every  feather  sleeked  itself  down,  and  his  little  body  looked 
natty  and  trim,  his  head  alert,  his  eyes  bright,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  come  near  him,  for  his  agility.  Then  let  mos- 
quitoes and  little  flies  look  about  them  !  Hum  snapped  them 
up  without  mercy,  and  seemed  to  be  all  over  the  ceiling 
in  a  moment,  and  resisted  all  our  efforts  at  any  personal 
familiarity  with  a  saucy  alacrity. 

Hum  had  his  established  institutions  in  our  room,  the 
chief  of  which  was  a  tumbler  with  a  little  sugar  and  water 
mixed  in  it,  and  a  spoon  laid  across,  out  of  which  he  helped 
himself  whenever  he  felt  in  the  mood,  —  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  the  tumbler,  and  dipping  his  long  bill,  and  lapping  with 
his  little  forked  tongue  like  a  kitten.  When  he  found  his 
spoon  accidentally  dry,  he  would  stoop  over  and  dip  his 
bill  in  the  water  in  the  tumbler,  —  which  caused  the  proph- 
ecy on  the  part  of  some  of  his  guardians,  that  he  would 
fall  in  some  day  and  be  drowned.  For  which  reason  it  was 
agreed  to  keep  only  an  inch  in  depth  of  the  fluid  at  the 


76 


HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ. 


bottom  of  the  tumbler.  A  wise  precaution  this  proved  ;  for 
the  next  morning  I  was  awaked,  not  by  the  usual  hum 
over  my  head,  but  by  a  sharp  little  flutter,  and  found  Mr. 
Hum  beating  his  wings  in  the  tumbler,  —  having  actually 
tumbled  in  during  his  energetic  efforts  to  get  his  morning 
coffee  before  I  was  awake. 

Hum  seemed  perfectly  happy  and  satisfied  in  his  quarters, 
—  but  one  day,  when  the  door  was  left  open,  made  a  dart 
out,  and  so  into  the  open  sunshine.  Then,  to  be  sure,  we 
thought  we  had  lost  him.  We  took  the  mosquito  netting 


HUM,    THE    SON    OF    BUZ.  77 

out  of  all  the  windows,  and,  setting  his  tumbler  of  sugar 
and  water  in  a  conspicuous  place,  went  about  our  usual 
occupations.  We  saw  him  joyous  and  brisk  among  the 
honeysuckles  outside  the  window,  and  it  was  gravely  pre- 
dicted that  he  would  return  no  more.  But  at  dinner-time 
in  came  Hum,  familiar  as  possible,  and  sat  down  to  his 
spoon  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  instantly  we  closed  our 
windows  and  had  him  secure  once  more. 

At  another  time  I  was  going  to  ride  to  the  Atlantic 
House,  about  a  mile  from  my  boarding-place.  I  left  all 
secure,  as  I  supposed,  at  home.  While  gathering  moss  on 
the  walls  there,  I  was  surprised  by  a  little  green  humming- 
bird flying  familiarly  right  towards  my  face,  and  humming 
above  my  head.  I  called  out,  "  Here  is  Hum's  very  brother." 
But,  on  returning  home,  I  saw  that  the  door  of  the  room 
was  open,  and  Hum  was  gone.  Now  certainly  we  gave 
him  up  for  lost.  I  sat  down  to  painting,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  in  flew  Hum,  and  settled  on  the  edge  of  my  tum- 
bler in  a  social,  confidential  way,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  O, 
you  Ve  got  back  then."  After  taking  his  usual  drink  of 
sugar  and  water,  he  began  to  fly  about  the  ceiling  as  usual, 
and  we  gladly  shut  him  in. 

When  our  five  weeks  at  the  seaside  were  up,  and  it  was 
time  to  go  home,  we  had  great  questionings  what  was  to 
be  done  with  Hum.  To  get  him  home  with  us  was  our 
desire,  —  but  who  ever  heard  of  a  humming-bird  travelling 


?8  HUM,   THE   SON   OF   BUZ. 

by  railroad  ?  Great  were  the  consultings  ;  a  little  basket 
of  Indian  work  was  filled  up  with  cambric  handkerchiefs, 
and  a  bottle  of  sugar  and  water  provided,  and  we  started 
with  him  for  a  day's  journey.  When  we  arrived  at  night 
the  first  care  was  to  see  what  had  become  of  Hum,  who 
had  not  been  looked  at  since  we  fed  him  with  sugar  and 
water  in  Boston.  We  found  him  alive  and  well,  but  so 
dead  asleep  .  that  we  could  not  wake  him  to  roost ;  so  we 
put  him  to  bed  on  a  toilet  cushion,  and  arranged  his  tum- 
bler for  morning.  The  next  day  found  him  alive  and  hum- 
ming, exploring  the  room  and  pictures,  perching  now  here 
and  now  there  ;  but,  as  the  weather  was  chilly,  he  sat  for 
the  most  part  of  the  time  in  a  humped-up  state  on  the  tip 
of  a  pair  of  stag's  horns.  We  moved  him  to  a  more  sunny 
apartment ;  but,  alas !  the  equinoctial  storm  came  on,  and 
there  was  no  sun  to  be  had  for  days.  Hum  was  blue ; 
the  pleasant  seaside  days  were  over ;  his  room  was  lonely, 
the  pleasant  three  that  had  enlivened  the  apartment  at  Rye 
no  longer  came  in  and  out ;  evidently  he  was  lonesome, 
and  gave  way  to  depression.  One  chilly  morning  he  man- 
aged again  to  fall  into  his  tumbler,  and  wet  himself  through ; 
and  notwithstanding  warm  bathings  and  tender  nursings, 
the  poor  little  fellow  seemed  to  get  diphtheria,  or  something 
quite  as  bad  for  humming-birds. 

We  carried  him  to  a  neighboring  sunny  parlor,  where  ivy 
embowers  all  the  walls,  and  the  sun  lies  all  day.     There  he 


HUM,    THE    SON   OF   BUZ.  79 

revived  a  little,  danced  up  and  down,  perched  on  a  green 
spray  that  was  wreathed  across  the  breast  of  a  Psyche,  and 
looked  then  like  a  little  flitting  soul  returning  to  its  rest. 
Towards  evening  he  drooped  ;  and,  having  been  nursed  and 
warmed  and  cared  for,  he  was  put  to  sleep  on  a  green 
twig  laid  on  the  piano.  In  that  sleep  the  little  head  drooped 
—  nodded  —  fell ;  and  little  Hum  went  where  other  bright 
dreams  go,  —  to  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter. 


OUR    COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS. 

\  ~\  7E  have  just  built  our  house  in  rather  an  out-of-the- 
way  place,  —  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  and  under  the 
shade  of  a  patch  of  woods  which  is  a  veritable  remain  of 
quite  an  ancient  forest.  The  checkerberry  and  partridge- 
plum,  with  their  glossy  green  leaves  and  scarlet  berries, 
still  carpet  the  ground  under  its  deep  shadows  ;  and  prince's- 
pine  and  other  kindred  evergreens  declare  its  native  wild- 
ness,  —  for  these  are  children  of  the  wild  woods,  that 
never  come  after  plough  and  harrow  has  once  broken  a 
soil. 

When  we  tried  to  look  out  the  spot  for  our  house,  we 
had  to  get  a  surveyor  to  go  before  us  and  cut  a  path 
through  the  dense  underbrush  that  was  laced  together  in  a 
general  network  of  boughs  and  leaves,  and  grew  so  high 
as  to  overtop  our  heads.  Where  the  house  stands,  four  or 
five  great  old  oaks  and  chestnuts  had  to  be  cut  away  to 
let  it  in  ;  and  now  it  stands  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  the 
edges  of  which  are  still  overhung  with  old  forest-trees, 
chestnuts  and  oaks,  which  look  at  themselves  in  the  glassy 
stream. 

A  little  knoll  near  the  house  was  chosen  for  a  garden- 
spot  ;  a  dense,  dark  mass  of  trees  above,  of  bushes  in  mid- 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  8 1 

air,  and  of  all  sorts  of  ferns  and  wild-flowers  and  creeping 
vines  on  the  ground.  All  these  had  to  be  cleared  out, 
and  a  dozen  great  trees  cut  down  and  dragged  off  to  a 
neighboring  saw-mill,  there  to  be  transformed  into  boards 
to  finish  off  our  house.  Then,  fetching  a  great  machine, 
such  as  might  be  used  to  pull  a  giant's  teeth,  with  ropes, 
pulleys,  oxen,  and  men,  and  might  and  main,  we  pulled  out 
the  stumps,  with  their  great  prongs  and  their  network  of 
roots  and  fibres  ;  and  then,  alas  !  we  had  to  begin  with  all 
the  pretty  wild,  lovely  bushes,  and  the  checkerberries  and 
ferns  and  wild  blackberries  and  huckleberry-bushes,  and  dig 
them  up  remorselessly,  that  we  might  plant  our  corn  and 
squashes.  And  so  we  got  a  house  and  a  garden  right  out 
of  the  heart  of  our  piece  of  wild  wood,  about  a  mile  from 
the  city  of  H . 

Well,  then,  people  said  it  was  a  lonely  place,  and  far 
from  neighbors,  —  by  which  they  meant  that  it  was  a  good 
way  for  them  to  come  to  see  us.  But  we  soon  found  that 
whoever  goes  into  the  woods  to  live  finds  neighbors  of  a 
new  kind,  and  some  to  whom  it  is  rather  hard  to  become 
accustomed. 

For  instance,  on  a  fine  day  early  in  April,  as  we  were 
crossing  over  to  superintend  the  building  of  our  house,  we 
were  startled  by  a  striped  snake,  with  his  little  bright  eyes, 
raising  himself  to  look  at  us,  and  putting  out  his  red, 
forked  tongue.  Now  there  is  no  more  harm  in  these  little 
6 


82  OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS. 

garden-snakes  than  there  is  in  a  robin  or  a  squirrel ;  they 
are  poor  little,  peaceable,  timid  creatures,  which  could  not 
do  any  harm  if  they  would  ;  but  the  prejudices  of  society 
are  so  strong  against  them,  that  one  does  not  like  to  cul- 
tivate too  much  intimacy  with  them.  So  we  tried  to  turn 
out  of  our  path  into  a  tangle  of  bushes  ;  and  there, 
instead  of  one,  we  found  four  snakes.  We  turned  on  the 
other  side,  and  there  were  two  more.  In  short,  every- 
where, we  looked,  the  dry  leaves  were  rustling  and  coiling 
with  them ;  and  we  were  in  despair.  In  vain  we  said  that 
they  were  harmless  as  kittens,  and  tried  to  persuade  our- 
selves that  their  little  bright  eyes  were  pretty,  and  that 
their  serpentine  movements  were  in  the  exact  line  of  beauty ; 
for  the  life  of  us,  we  could  not  help  remembering  their 
family  name  and  connections ;  we  thought  of  those  disa- 
greeable gentlemen,  the  anacondas,  the  rattlesnakes,  and  the 
copperheads,  and  all  of  that  bad  line,  immediate  family 
friends  of  the  old  serpent  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  all 
the  mischief  that  is  done  in  this  world.  So  we  were  quite 
apprehensive  when  we  saw  how  our  new  neighborhood  was 
infested  by  them,  until  a  neighbor  calmed  out  fears  by 
telling  us  that  snakes  always  crawled  out  of  their  holes  to 
sun  themselves  in  the  spring,  and  that  in  a  day  or  two 
they  would  all  be  gone. 

So  it   proved.      It  was  evident    they  were  all  out  merely 
to  do  their  spring  shopping,  or  something  that  serves  with 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  83 

them  the  same  purpose  that  spring  shopping  does  with  us ; 
and  where  they  went  afterwards  we  do  not  know.  People 
speak  of  snakes'  holes,  and  we  have  seen  them  disappear- 
ing into  such  subterranean  chambers ;  but  we  never  opened 
one  to  see  what  sort  of  underground  housekeeping  went 
on  there.  After  the  first  few  days  of  spring,  a  snake  was 
a  rare  visitor,  though  now  and  then  one  appeared. 

One  was  discovered  taking  his  noontide  repast  one  day 
in  a  manner  which  excited  much  prejudice.  He  was,  in 
fact,  regaling  himself  by  sucking  down  into  his  maw  a 
small  frog,  which  he  had  begun  to  swallow  at  the  toes, 
and  had  drawn  about  half  down.  The  frog,  it  must  be 
confessed,  seemed  to  view  this  arrangement  with  great  indif- 
ference, making  no  struggle,  and  sitting  solemnly,  with  his 
great  unwinking  eyes,  to  be  sucked  in  at  the  leisure  of  his 
captor.  There  was  immense  sympathy,  however,  excited 
for  him  in  the  family  circle  ;  and  it  was  voted  that  a  snake 
which  indulged  in  such  very  disagreeable  modes  of  eating 
his  dinner  was  not  to  be  tolerated  in  our  vicinity.  So 
I  have  reason  to  believe  that  that  was  his  last  meal. 

Another  of  our  wild  woodland  neighbors  made  us  some 
trouble.  It  was  no  other  than  a  veritable  woodchuck, 
whose  hole  we  had  often  wondered  at  when  we  were 
scrambling  through  the  underbrush  after  spring  flowers. 
The  hole  was  about  the  size  of  a  peck-measure,  and  had 
two  openings  about  six  feet  apart.  The  occupant  was  a 


84  OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS. 

gentleman  we  never  had  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing ;  but 
we  soon  learned  his  existence  from  his  ravages  in  our  gar- 
den. He  had  a  taste,  it  appears,  for  the  very  kind  of 
things  we  wanted  to  eat  ourselves,  and  helped  himself 
without  asking.  We  had  a  row  of  fine,  crisp  heads  of  let- 
tuce, which  were  the  pride  of  our  gardening,  and  out  of 
which  he  would  from  day  to  day  select  for  his  table  just 
the  plants  we  had  marked  for  ours.  He  also  nibbled  our 
young  ,  beans  ;  and  so  at  last  we  were  reluctantly  obliged 
to  let  John  Gardiner  set  a  trap  for  him.  Poor  old  simple- 
minded  hermit,  he  was  too  artless  for  this  world !  He  was 
caught  at  the  very  first  snap,  and  found  dead  in  the  trap, 
—  the  agitation  and  distress  having  broken  his  poor  wood- 
land heart,  and  killed  him.  We  were  grieved  to  the  very 
soul  when  the  poor  fat  old  fellow  was  dragged  out,  with 
his  useless  paws  standing  up  stiff  and  imploring.  As  it 
was,  he  was  given  to  Denis,  our  pig,  which,  without  a 
single  scruple  of  delicacy,  ate  him  up  as  thoroughly  as 
he  ate  up  the  lettuce. 

This  business  of  eating,  it  appears,  must  go  on  all  through 
creation.  We  eat  ducks,  turkeys,  and  chickens,  though  we 
don't  swallow  them  whole,  feathers  and  all.  Our  four-footed 
friends,  less  civilized,  take  things  with  more  directness  and 
simplicity,  and  chew  each  other  up  without  ceremony,  or 
swallow  each  other  alive.  Of  these  unceremonious  habits 
we  had  other  instances. 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  85 

Our  house  had  a  central  court  on  the  southern  side,  into 
which  looked  the  library,  dining-room,  and  front  hall,  as 
well  as  several  of  the  upper  chambers.  It  was  designed  to 
be  closed  in  with  glass,  to  serve  as  a  conservatory  in  win- 
ter ;  and  meanwhile  we  had  filled  it  with  splendid  plumy 
ferns,  taken  up  out  of  the  neighboring  wood.  In  the  centre 
was  a  fountain  surrounded  by  stones,  shells,  mosses,  and 
various  water-plants.  We  had  bought  three  little  goldfish 
to  swim  in  our  basin ;  and  the  spray  of  it,  as  it  rose  in 
the  air  and  rippled  back  into  the  water,  was  the  pleasantest 
possible  sound  of  a  hot  day.  We  used  to  lie  on  the  sofa 
in  the  hall,  and  look  into  the  court,  and  fancy  we  saw 
some  scene  of  fairy-land,  and  water-sprites  coming  up  from 
the  fountain.  Suddenly  a  new-comer  presented  himself, — 
no  other  than  an  immense  bullfrog,  that  had  hopped  up 
from  the  neighboring  river,  apparently  with  a  view  to  mak- 
ing a  permanent  settlement  in  and  about  our  fountain. 
He  was  to  be  seen,  often  for  hours,  sitting  reflectively  on 
the  edge  of  it,  beneath  the  broad  shadow  of  the  calla-leaves. 
When  sometimes  missed  thence,  he  would  be  found  under 
the  ample  shield  of  a  great  bignonia,  whose  striped  leaves 
grew  hard  by. 

The  family  were  prejudiced  against  him.  What  did  he 
want  there  ?  It  was  surely  some  sinister  motive  impelled 
him.  He  was  probably  watching  for  an  opportunity  to 
gobble  up  the  goldfish.  We  took  his  part,  however,  and 


86 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS. 


\ 


strenuously  defended  his  moral  character,  and  patronized 
him  in  all  ways.  We  gave  him  the  name  of  Unke,  and 
maintained  that  he  was  a  well-conducted,  philosophical  old 
water-sprite,  who  showed  his  good  taste  in  wanting  to  take 
up  his  abode  in  our  conservatory.  We  even  defended  his 
personal  appearance,  praised  the  invisible-green  coat  which 
he  wore  on  his  back,  and  his  gray  vest,  and  solemn  gold 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  8/ 

spectacles ;  and  though  he  always  felt  remarkably  slimy 
when  we  touched  him,  yet,  as  he  would  sit  still,  and  allow 
us  to  stroke  his  head  and  pat  his  back,  we  concluded  his 
social  feelings  might  be  warm,  notwithstanding  a  cold  ex- 
terior. Who  knew,  after  all,  but  he  might  be  a  beautiful 
young  prince,  enchanted  there  till  the  princess  should  come 
to  drop  the  golden  ball  into  the  fountain,  and  so  give  him 
a  chance  to  marry  her,  and  turn  into  a  man  again  ?  Such 
things,  we  are  credibly  informed,  are  matters  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  Germany.  Why  not  here  ? 

By  and  by  there  came  to  our  fountain  another  visitor,  — 
a  frisky,  green  young  frog  of  the  identical  kind  spoken  of 
by  the  poet :  — 

"  There  was  a  frog  lived  in  a  well, 
Rig  dum  pully  metakimo." 

This  thoughtless,  dapper  individual,  with  his  bright  green 
coat,  his  faultless  white  vest,  and  sea-green  tights,  became 
rather  the  popular  favorite.  He  seemed  just  rakish  and 
gallant  enough  to  fulfil  the  conditions  of  the  song :  — 

"  The  frog  he  would  a  courting  ride, 
With  sword  and  pistol  by  his  side." 

This  lively  young  fellow,  whom  we  shall  Cri-Cri,  like  other 
frisky  and  gay  young  people,  carried  the  day  quite  over 
the  head  of  the  solemn  old  philosopher  under  the  calla- 
leaves.  At  night,  when  all  was  still,  he  would  trill  a  joy- 


88  OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS. 

ous  little  note  in  his  throat,  while  old  Unke  would  answer 
only  with  a  cracked  gutteral  more  singular  than  agreeable ; 
and  to  all  outward  appearance  the  two  were  as  good 
friends  as  their  different  natures  would  allow. 

One  day,  however,  the  conservatory  became  a  scene  of  a 
tragedy  of  the  deepest  dye.  We  were  summoned  below  by 
shrieks  and  howls  of  horror.  "Do  pray  come  down  and 
see  what  this  vile,  nasty,  horrid  old  frog  has  been  doing  !'* 
Down  we  came ;  and  there  sat  our  virtuous  old  philosopher, 
with  his  poor  little  brother's  hind  legs  still  sticking  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  as  if  he  were  smoking  them  for 
a  cigar,  all  helplessly  palpitating  as  they  were.  In  fact, 
our  solemn  old  friend  had  done  what  many  a  solemn  hyp- 
ocrite before  has  done,  —  swallowed  his  poor  brother,  neck 
and  crop,  —  and  sat  there  with  the  most  brazen  indifference, 
looking  as  if  he  had  done  the  most  proper  and  virtuous 
thing  in  the  world. 

Immediately  he  was  marched  out  of  the  conservatory  at 
the  point  of  the  walking-stick,  and  made  to  hop  down  into 
the  river,  into  whose  waters  he  splashed ;  and  we  saw  him 
no  more.  We  regret  to  say  that  the  popular  indignation 
was  so  precipitate  in  its  results ;  otherwise  the  special  artist 
who  sketched  Hum,  the  son  of  Buz,  intended  to  have  made 
a  sketch  of  the  old  villain,  as  he  sat  with  his  luckless  vic- 
tim's hind  legs  projecting  from  his  solemn  mouth.  With 
all  his  moral  faults,  he  was  a  good  sitter,  and  would  prob- 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  89 

ably  have  sat  immovable  any  length  of  time  that  could  be 
desired 

Of  other  woodland  neighbors  there  were  some  which  we 
saw  occasionally.  The  shores  of  the  river  were  lined  here 
and  there  with  the  holes  of  the  muskrats ;  and,  in  rowing 
by  their  settlements,  we  were  sometimes  strongly  reminded 
of  them  by  the  overpowering  odor  of  the  perfume  from 
which  they  get  their  name.  There  were  also  owls,  whose 
nests  were  high  up  in  some  of  the  old  chestnut-trees.  Often 
in  the  lonely  hours  of  the  night  we  could  hear  them  gib- 
bering with  a  sort  of  wild,  hollow  laugh  among  the  distant 
trees.  But  one  tenant  of  the  woods  made  us  some  trouble 
in  the  autumn.  It  was  a  little  flying-squirrel,  who  took  to 
making  excursions  into  our  house  in  the  night  season,  com- 
ing down  chimney  into  the  chambers,  rustling- about  among 
the  clothes,  cracking  nuts  or  nibbling  at  any  morsels  of 
anything  that  suited  his  fancy.  For  a  long  time  the  in- 
mates of  the  rooms  were  awakened  in  the  night  by  myste- 
rious noises,  thumps,  and  rappings,  and  so  lighted  candles, 
and  searched  in  vain  to  find  whence  they  came  ;  for  the 
moment  any  movement  was  made,  the  rogue  whipped  up 
chimney,  and  left  us  a  prey  to  the  most  mysterious  alarms. 
What  could  it  be? 

But  one  night  our  fine  gentleman  bounced  in  at  the 
window  of  another  room,  which  had  no  fireplace ;  and  the 
fair  occupant,  rising  in  the  night,  shut  the  window,  with- 


9O  OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS. 

out  suspecting  that  she  had  cut  off  the  retreat  of  any  of 
her  woodland  neighbors.  The  next  morning  she  was  star- 
tled by  what  she  thought  a  gray  rat  running  past  her 
bed.  She  rose  to  pursue  him,  when  he  ran  up  the  wall, 
and  clung  against  the  plastering,  showing  himself  very 
plainly  a  gray  flying-squirrel,  with  large,  soft  eyes,  and 
wings  which  consisted  of  a  membrane  uniting  the  fore 
paws  to  the  hind  ones,  like  those  of  a  bat.  He  was 
chased  into  the  conservatory,  and,  a  window  being  opened, 
out  he  flew  upon  the  ground,  and  made  away  for  his  na- 
tive woods,  and  thus  put  an  end  to  many  fears  as  to  the 
nature  of  our  nocturnal  rappings. 

So  you  see  how  many  neighbors  we  found  by  living  in 
the  woods,  and,  after  all,  no  worse  ones  than  are  found 
in  the  great  world. 


OUR    DOGS. 
I. 

\  yf  7E    who    live   in    Cunopolis   are   a  dog-loving    family. 

*  *  We  have  a  warm  side  towards  everything  that  goes 
upon  four  paws,  and  the  consequence  has  been  that,  taking 
things  first  and  last,  we  have  been  always  kept  in  confu- 
sion and  under  the  paw,  so  to  speak,  of  some  honest  four- 
footed  tyrant,  who  would  go  beyond  his  privilege  and 
overrun  the  whole  house.  Years  ago  this  begun,  when 
our  household  consisted  of  a  papa,  a  mamma,  and  three 
or  four  noisy  boys  and  girls,  and  a  kind  .Miss  Anna  who 
acted  as  a  second  mamma  to  the  whole.  There  was  also 
one  more  of  our  number,  the  youngest,  dear  little  bright- 
eyed  Charley,  who  was  king  over  us  all,  and  rode  in  a 
wicker  wagon  for  a  chariot,  and  had  a  nice  little  nurse 
devoted  to  him ;  and  it  was  through  him  that  our  first 
dog  came.  « 

One  day  Charley's  nurse  took  him  quite  a  way  to  a 
neighbor's  house  to  spend  the  afternoon ;  and,  he  being 
well  amused,  they  stayed  till  after  nightfall.  The  kind  old 
lady  of  the  mansion  was  concerned  that  the  little  prince  in 
his  little  coach,  with  his  little  maid,  had  to  travel  so  far  in 


92  .OUR   DOGS. 

the  twilight  shadows,  and  so  she  called  a  big  dog  named 
Carlo,  and  gave  the  establishment  into  his  charge. 

Carlo  was  a  great,  tawny-yellow  mastiff,  as  big  as  a  calf, 
with  great,  clear,  honest  eyes,  and  stiff,  wiry  hair ;  and  the 
good  lady  called  him  to  the  side  of  the  little  wagon,  and 
said,  "  Now,  Carlo,  you  must  take  good  care  of  Charley, 
and  you  must  n't  let  anything  hurt  him." 

Carlo  wagged  his  tail  in  promise  of  protection,  and  away 
he  trotted,  home  with  the  wicker  wagon ;  and  when  he 
arrived,  he  was  received  with  so  much  applause  by  four 
little  folks,  who  dearly  loved  the  very  sight  of  a  dog,  he 
was  so  stroked  and  petted  and  caressed,  that  he  concluded 
that  he  liked  the  place  better  than  the  home  he  came 
from,  where  were  only  very  grave  elderly  people.  He  tar- 
ried all  night,  and  slept  at  the  foot  of  the  boys'  bed,  who 
could  hardly  go  to  sleep  for  the  things  they  found  to  say 
to  him,  and  who  were  awake  ever  so  early  in  the  morning, 
stroking  his  rough,  tawny  back,  and  hugging  him. 

At  his  own  home  Carlo  had  a  kennel  all  to  himself, 
where  he  was  expected  to  live  quite  alone,  and  do  duty  by 
watching  and  guarding  the  place.  Nobody  petted  him,  or 
stroked  his  rough  hide,  or  said,  "  Poor  dog ! "  to  him,  and 
so  it  appears  he  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  not  appreciated, 
and  liked  our  warm-hearted  little  folks,  who  told  him  stories, 
gave  him  half  of  their  own  supper,  and  took  him  to  bed 
with  them  sociably.  Carlo  was  a  dog  that  had  a  mind  of 


OUR  DOGS.  93 

his  own,  though  he  could  n't  say  much  about  it,  and  in  his 
dog  fashion  proclaimed  his  likes  and  dislikes  quite  as 
strongly  as  if  he  could  speak.  When  the  time  came  for 
taking  him  home,  he  growled  and  showed  his  teeth  dan- 
gerously at  the  man  who  was  sent  for  him,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  drag  him  back  by  force,  and  tie  him  into  his 
kennel.  However,  he  soon  settled  that  matter  by  gnawing 
the  rope  in  two  and  padding  down  again  and  appearing 
among  his  little  friends,  quite  to  their  delight.  Two  or 
three  times  was  he  taken  back  and  tied  or  chained ;  but 
he  howled  so  dismally,  and  snapped  at  people  in  such  a 
misanthropic  manner,  that  finally  the  kind  old  lady  thought 
it  better  to  have  no  dog  at  all  than  a  dog  soured  by 
blighted  affection.  So  she  loosed  his  rope,  and  said,  "There, 
Carlo,  go  and  stay  where  you  like "  ;  and  so  Carlo  came 
to  us,  and  a  joy  and  delight  was  he  to  all  in  the  house. 
He  loved  one  and  all ;  but  he  declared  himself  as  more 
than  all  the  slave  and  property  of  our  little  Prince  Char- 
ley. He  would  lie  on  the  floor  as  still  as  a  door-mat,  and 
let  him  pull  his  hair,  and  roll  over  him,  and  examine  his 
eyes  with  his  little  fat  fingers ;  and  Carlo  submitted  to  all 
these  personal  freedoms  with  as  good  an  understanding  as 
papa  himself.  When  Charley  slept,  Carlo  stretched  himself 
along  under  the  crib  ;  rising  now  and  then,  and  standing 
with  his  broad  breast  on  a  level  with  the  slats  of  the  crib, 
he  would  look  down  upon  him  with  an  air  of  grave  pro- 


94 


OUR   DOGS. 


tection.  He  also  took  a  great  fancy  to  papa,  and  would 
sometimes  pat  with  tiptoe  care  into  his  study,  and  sit 
quietly  down  by  him  when  he  was  busy  over  his  Greek 
or  Latin  books,  waiting  for  a  word  or  two  of  praise  or  en- 
couragement. If  none  came,  he  would  lay  his  rough  horny 
paw  on  his  knee,  and  look  in  his  face  with  such  an  hon- 
est, imploring  expression,  that  the  professor  was  forced  to 
break  off  to  say,  "Why,  Carlo,  you  poor,  good,  honest 
fellow, — did  he  want  to  be  talked  to?  —  so  he  did.  Well, 
he  shall  be  talked  to  ;  —  he  's  a  nice,  good  dog "  ;  —  and 
during  all  these  praises  Carlo's  transports  and  the  thumps 
of  his  rough  tail  are  not  to  be  described. 

He  had  great,  honest  yellowish-brown  eyes,  —  not  remark- 
able for  their  beauty,  but  which  used  to  look  as  if  he 
longed  to  s»peak,  and  he  seemed  to  have  a  yearning  for 


OUR   DOGS. 


95 


praise  and  love  and  caresses  that  even  all  our  attentions 
could  scarcely  satisfy.  His  master  would  say  to  him  some- 
times, "Carlo,  you  poor,  good,  homely  dog,  —  how  loving 
you  are ! " 

Carlo  was  a  full-blooded  mastiff,  and  his  beauty,  if  he 
had  any,  consisted  in  his  having  all  the  good  points  of  his 
race.  He  was  a  dog  of  blood,  come  of  real  old  mastiff 
lineage ;  his  stiff,  wiry  hair,  his  big,  rough  paws,  and  great 
brawny  chest,  were  all  made  for  strength  rather  than  beauty  ; 
but  for  all  that  he  was  a  dog  of  tender  sentiments.  Yet, 
if  any  one  intruded  on  his  rights  and  dignities,  Carlo 
showed  that  he  had  hot  blood  in  him  ;  his  lips  would  go 
back,  and  show  a  glistening  row  of  ivories,  that  one  would 
not  like  to  encounter,  and  if  any  trenched  on  his  privileges, 
he  would  give  a  deep  warning  growl,  —  as. much  as  to  say, 
"I  am  your  slave  for  love,  but  you  must  treat  me  well,  or 
I  shall  be  dangerous."  A  blow  he  would  not  bear  from 
any  one :  the  fire  would  flash  from  his  great  yellow  eyes, 
and  he  would  snap  like  a  rifle ;  —  yet  he  would  let  his 
own  Prince  Charley  pound  on  his  ribs  with  both  baby 
fists,  and  pull  his  tail  till  he  yelped,  without  even  a  show 
of  resistance. 

At  last  came  a  time  when  the  merry  voice  of  little  Char- 
ley was  heard  no  more,  and  his  little  feet  no  more  pattered 
through  the  halls ;  he  lay  pale  and  silent  in  his  little  crib, 
with  his  dear  life  ebbing  away,  and  no  one  knew  how  to 


96  OUR   DOGS. 

stop  its  going.  Poor  old  Carlo  lay  under  the  crib  when 
they  would  let  him,  sometimes  rising  up  to  look  in  with 
an  earnest,  sorrowful  face ;  and  sometimes  he  would  stretch 
himself  out  in  the  entry  before  the  door  of  little  Charley's 
room,  watching  with  his  great  open  eyes  lest  the  thief 
should  come  in  the  night  to  steal  away  our  treasure. 

But  one  morning  when  the  children  woke,  one  little  soul 
had  gone  in  the  night,  —  gone  upward  to  the  angels  ;  and 
then  the  cold,  pale  little  form  that  used  to  be  the  life  of 
the  house  was  laid  away  tenderly  in  the  yard  of  a  neigh- 
boring church. 

Poor  old  Carlo  would  pit-pat  silently  about  the  house  in 
those  days  of  grief,  looking  first  into  one  face  and  then 
another,  but  no  one  could  tell  him  where  his  gay  little 
master  had  gone.  The  other  children  had  hid  the  baby- 
wagon  away  in  the  lumber-room  lest  their  mamma  should 
see  it;  and  so  passed  a  week  or  two,  and  Carlo  saw  no 
trace  of  Charley  about  the  house.  But  then  a  lady  in  the 
neighborhood,  who  had  a  sick  baby,  sent  to  borrow  the 
wicker  wagon,  and  it  was  taken  from  its  hiding-place  to 
go  to  her.  Carlo  came  to  the  door  just  as  it  was  being 
drawn  out  of  the  gate  into  the  street.  Immediately  he 
sprung,  cleared  the  fence  with  a  great  bound,  and  ran  after 
it.  He  overtook  it,  and  poked  his  nose  between  the  cur- 
tains,—  there  was  no  one  there.  Immediately  he  turned 
away,  and  padded  dejectedly  home.  What  words  could 


OUR   DOGS.  97 

have   spoken    plainer   of  love   and    memory   than   this    one 
action  ? 

Carlo  lived  with  us  a  year  after  this,  when  a  time  came 
for  the  whole  family  hive  to  be  taken  up  and  moved  away 
from  the  flowery  banks  of  the  Ohio,  to  the  piny  shores  of 
Maine.  All  our  household  goods  were  being  uprooted,  dis- 
ordered, packed,  and  sold ;  and  the  question  daily  arose, 
"  What  shall  we  do  with  Carlo  ? "  There  was  hard  begging 
on  the  part  of  the  boys  that  he  might  go  with  them,  and 
one  even  volunteered  to  travel  all  the  way  in  baggage  cars 
to  keep  Carlo  company.  But  papa  said  no,  and  so  it  was 
decided  to  send  Carlo  up  the  river  to  the  home  of  a  very 
genial  lady  who  had  visited  in  our  family,  and  who  appre- 
ciated his  parts,  and  offered  him  a  home  in  hers. 

The  .matter  was  anxiously  talked  over  one  day  in  the 
family  circle  while  Carlo  lay  under  the  table,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  papa  and  Willie  should  take  him  to  the  steam- 
boat landing  the  next  morning.  But  the  next  morning  Mr. 
Carlo  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  In  vain  was  he  called, 
from  garret  to  cellar ;  nor  was  it  till  papa  and  Willie  had 
gone  to  the  city  that  he  came  out  of  his  hiding-place. 
For  two  or  three  days  it  was  impossible  to  catch  him,  but 
after  a  while  his  suspicions  were  laid,  and  we  learned  not 
to  speak  out  our  plans  in  his  presence,  and  so  the  transfer 
at  last  was  prosperously  effected. 

We  heard  from  him  once  in  his  new  home,  as  being  a 
7 


9$  OUR  DOGS. 

highly  appreciated  member  of  society,  and  adorning  his  new 
situation  with  all  sorts  of  dog  virtues,  while  we  wended  our 
ways  to  the  coast  of  Maine.  But  our  hearts  were  sore  for 
want  of  him ;  the  family  circle  seemed  incomplete,  until  a 
new  favorite  appeared  to  take  his  place,  of  which  I  shall 
tell  you  next  month. 


II. 


A  NEIGHBOR,  blessed  with  an  extensive  litter  of  New- 
*  ^-  foundland  pups,  commenced  one  chapter  in  our  family 
history  by  giving  us  a  puppy,  brisk,  funny,  and  lively 
enough,  who  was  received  in  our  house  with  acclamations 
of  joy,  and  christened  "Rover."  An  auspicious  name  we 
all  thought,  for  his  four  or  five  human  playfellows  were 
all  rovers,  —  rovers  in  the  woods,  rovers  by  the  banks  of 
a  neighboring  patch  of  water,  where  they  dashed  and 
splashed,  made  rafts,  inaugurated  boats,  and  lived  among 
the  cat-tails  and  sweet  flags  as  familiarly  as  so  many  musk- 
rats.  Rovers  also  they  were,  every  few  days,  down  to 
the  shores  of  the  great  sea,  where  they  caught  fish,  rowed 
boats,  dug  clams,  —  both  girls  and  boys,  —  and  one  sex 
quite  as  handily  as  the  other.  Rover  came  into  such  a 
lively  circle  quite  as  one  of  them,  and  from  the  very  first 
seemed  to  regard  himself  as  part  and  parcel  of  all  that 


OUR   DOGS.  99 

was  going  on,  in  doors  or  out.  But  his  exuberant  spirits 
at  times  brought  him  into  sad  scrapes.  His  vivacity  was 
such  as  to  amount  to  decided  insanity,  —  and  mamma  and 
Miss  Anna  and  papa  had  many  grave  looks  over  his  capers. 
Once  he  actually  tore  off  the  leg  of  a  new  pair  of  trousers 
that  Johnny  had  just  donned,  and  came  racing  home 
with  it  in  his  mouth,  with  its  bare-legged  little  owner 
behind,  screaming  threats  and  maledictions  on  the  robber. 
What  a  commotion !  The  new  trousers  had  just  been  pain- 
fully finished,  in  those  days  when  sewing  was  sewing,  and 
not  a  mere  jig  on  a  sewing-machine ;  but  Rover,  so  far 
from  being  abashed  or  ashamed,  displayed  an  impish  glee 
in  his  performance,  bounding  and  leaping  hither  and  thither 
with  his  trophy  in  his  mouth,  now  growling  and  mangling 
it,  and  shaking  it  at  us  in  elfish  triumph  as  we  chased  him 
hither  and  thither,  —  over  the  wood-pile,  into  the  wood- 
house,  through  the  barn,  out  of  the  stable  door,  —  vowing 
all  sorts  of  dreadful  punishments  when  we  caught  him.  But 
we  might  well  say  that,  for  the  little  wretch  would  never 
be  caught ;  after  one  of  his  tricks,  he  always  managed 
to  keep  himself  out  of  arm's  length  till  the  thing  was  a 
little  blown  over,  when  in  he  would  come,  airy  as  ever, 
and  wagging  his  little  pudgy  puppy  tail  with  an  air  of  the 
most  perfect  assurance  in  the  world. 

There  is  no  saying  what  youthful  errors  were  pardoned 
to  him.     Once  he  ate  a  hole  in  the  bed-quilt  as  his  night's 


IOO  OUR   DOGS. 

employment,  when  one  of  the  boys  had  surreptitiously  got 
him  into  bed  with  them ;  he  nibbled  and  variously  mal- 
treated sundry  sheets  ;  and  once  actually  tore  up  and 
chewed  off  a  corner  of  the  bedroom  carpet,  to  stay  his 
stomach  during  the  night  season.  What  he  did  it  for,  no 
mortal  knows ;  certainly  it  could  not  be  because  he  was 
hungry,  for  there  were  five  little  pairs  of  hands  incessantly 
feeding  him  from  morning  till  night.  Beside  which,  he 
had  a  boundless  appetite  for  shoes,  which  he  mumbled,  and 
shook,  and  tore,  and  ruined,  greatly  to  the  vexation  of 
their  rightful  owners,  —  rushing  in  and  carrying  them  from 
the  bedsides  in  the  night-watches,  racing  off  with  them 
to  any  out-of-the-way  corner  that  hit  his  fancy,  and  leav- 
ing them  when  he  was  tired  of  the  fun.  So  there  is  no 
telling  of  the  disgrace  into  which  he  brought  his  little 
masters  and  mistresses,  and  the  tears  and  threats  and 
scoldings  which  were  all  wasted  on  him,  as  he  would 
stand  quite  at  his  ease,  lolling  out  his  red,  saucy  tongue, 
and  never  deigning  to  tell  what  he  had  done  with  his 
spoils. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  sins,  Rover  grew  up  to  dog- 
hood,  the  pride  and  pet  of  the  family, — and  in  truth  a 
very  handsome  dog  he  was. 

It  is  quite  evident  from  his  looks  that  his  Newfoundland 
blood  had  been  mingled  with  that  of  some  other  races  ; 
for  he  never  attained  the  full  size  of  that  race,  and  his 


OUR   DOGS 


IOI 


points  in  some  respects  resembled  those  of  a  good  setter. 
He  was  grizzled  black  and  white,  and  spotted  on  the  sides 
in  litle  inky  drops  about  the  size  of  a  three-cent  piece ; 
his  hair  was  long  and  silky,  his  ears  beautifully  fringed, 
and  his  tail  long  and  feathery.  His  eyes  were  bright,  soft, 
and  full  of  expression,  and  a  jollier,  livelier,  more  loving 
creature  never  wore  dog-skin.  To  be  sure,  his  hunting 
blood  sometimes  brought  us  and  him  into  scrapes.  A 
neighbor  now  and  then  would  call  with  a  bill  for  ducks, 
chickens,  or  young  turkeys,  which  Rover  had  killed.  The 
last  time  this  occurred  it  was  decided  that  something  must 
be  done ;  so  Rover  was  shut  up  a  whole  day  in  a  cold 
lumber-room,  with  the  murdered  duck  tied  round  his  neck. 
Poor  fellow !  how  dejected  and  ashamed  he  looked,  and 


IO2  OUR  DOGS. 

how  grateful  he  was  when  his  little  friends  would  steal  in 
to  sit  with  him,  and  "poor"  him  in  his  disgrace !  The  pun- 
ishment so  improved  his  principles  that  he  let  poultry  alone 
from  that  time,  except  now  and  then,  when  he  would 
snap  up  a  young  chick  or  turkey,  in  pure  absence  of  mind, 
before  he  really  knew  what  he  was  about  We  had  great 
dread  lest  he  should  take  to  killing  sheep,  of  which  there 
were  many  flocks  in  the  neighborhood.  A  dog  which 
once  kills  sheep  is  a  doomed  beast,  —  as  much  as  a  man 
who  has  committed  murder ;  and  if  our  Rover,  through 
the  hunting  blood  that  was  in  him,  should  once  mistake 
a  sheep  for  a  deer,  and  kill  him,  we  should  be  obliged  to 
give  him  up  to  justice,  —  all  his  good  looks  and  good 
qualities  could  not  save  him. 

What  anxieties  his  training  under  this  head  cost  us ! 
When  we  were  driving  out  along  the  clean  sandy  roads, 
among  the  piny  groves  of  Maine,  it  was  half  our  enjoyment 
to  see  Rover,  with  ears  and  tail  wild  and  flying  with  excite- 
ment and  enjoyment,  bounding  and  barking,  now  on  this  side 
the  carriage,  now  on  that,  —  now  darting  through  the  woods 
straight  as  an  arrow,  in  his  leaps  after  birds  or  squirrels, 
and  anon  returning  to  trot  obediently  by  the  carriage,  and, 
wagging  his  tail,  to  ask  applause  for  his  performances. 
But  anon  a  flock  of  sheep  appeared  in  a  distant  field,  and 
away  would  go  Rover  in  full  bow-wow,  plunging  in  among 
them,  scattering  them  hither  and  thither  in  dire  confusion. 


OUR  DOGS.  IO3 

Then  Johnny  and  Bill  and  all  hands  would  spring  from  the 
carriage  in  full  chase  of  the  rogue ;  and  all  of  us  shouted 
vainly  in  the  rear ;  and  finally  the  rascal  would  be  dragged 
back,  panting  and  crestfallen,  to  be  admonished,  scolded, 
and  cuffed  with  salutary  discipline,  heartily  administered  by 
his  best  friends  for  the  sake  of  saving  his  life.  "Rover, 
you  naughty  dog !  Don't  you  know  you  must  n't  chase  the 
sheep  ?  You  '11  be  killed,  some  of  these  days."  Admoni- 
tions of  this  kind,  well  shaken  and  thumped  in,  at  last 
seemed  to  reform  him  thoroughly.  He  grew  so  conscien- 
tious, that,  when  a  flock  of  sheep  appeared  on  the  side  of 
the  road,  he  would  immediately  go  to  the  other  side  of  the 
carriage,  and  turn  away  his  head,  rolling  up  his  eyes 
meanwhile  to  us  for  praise  at  his  extraordinary  good  con- 
duct. "  Good  dog,  Rove  !  nice  dog  !  good  fellow  !  he  does  n't 
touch  the  sheep, — no,  he  doesn't."  Such  were  the  rewards 
of  virtue  which  sweetened  his  self-denial ;  hearing  which, 
he  would  plume  up  his  feathery  tail,  and  loll  out  his 
tongue,  with  an  air  of  virtuous  assurance  quite  edifying  to 
behold. 

Another  of  Rover's  dangers  was  a  habit  he  had  of  run- 
ning races  and  cutting  capers  with  the  railroad  engines  as 
they  passed  near  our  dwelling. 

We  lived  in  plain  sight  of  the  track,  and  three  or  four 
times  a  day  the  old,  puffing,  smoky  iron  horse  thundered 
by,  dragging  his  trains  of  cars,  and  making  the  very  ground 


IO4  OUR   DOGS. 

shake  under  him.  Rover  never  could  resist  the  temptation 
to  run  and  bark,  and  race  with  so  lively  an  antagonist ; 
and,  to  say  the  truth,  John  and  Willy  were  somewhat  of 
•his  mind,  —  so  that,  though  they  were  directed  to  catch 
and  hinder  him,  they  entered  so  warmly  into  his  own  feel- 
ings that  they  never  succeeded  in  breaking  up  the  habit. 
Every  day  when  the  distant  whistle  was  heard,  away  would 
go  Rover,  out  of  the  door  or  through  the  window,  —  no 
matter  which,  —  race  down  to  meet  the  cars,  couch  down 
on  the  track  in  front  of  them,  barking  with  all  his  might, 
as  if  it  were  only  a  fellow-dog,  and  when  they  came  so 
near  that  escape  seemed  utterly  impossible,  he  would  lie 
flat  down  between  the  rails  and  suffer  the  whole  train  to 
pass  over  him,  and  then  jump  up  and  bark,  full  of  glee,  in 
the  rear.  Sometimes  he  varied  this  performance  more  dan- 
gerously by  jumping  dut  full  tilt  between  two  middle  cars 
when  the  train  had  passed  half-way  over  him.  Everybody 
predicted,  of  course,  that  he  would  be  killed  or  maimed,  and 
the  loss  of  a  paw,  or  of  his  fine,  saucy  tail,  was  the  least 
of  the  dreadful  things  which  were  prophesied  about  him. 
But  Rover  lived  and  throve  in  his  imprudent  courses  not- 
withstanding. 

The  engineers  and  firemen,  who  began  by  throwing  sticks 
of  wood  and  bits  of  coal  at  him,  at  last  were  quite  sub- 
dued by  his  successful  impudence,  and  came  to  consider 
him  as  a  regular  institution  of  the  railroad,  and,  if  any 


OUR   DOGS.  105 

family  excursion  took  him  off  for  a  day,  they  would  inquire 
with  interest,  "Where  's  our  dog?  —  what  's  become  of 
Rover?"  As  to  the  female  part  of  our  family,  we  had 
so  often  anticipated  piteous  scenes  when  poor  Rover  would 
be  brought  home  with  broken  paws  or  without  his  pretty 
tail,  that  we  quite  used  up  our  sensibilities,  and  concluded 
that  some  kind  angel,  such  as  is  appointed  to  watch  over 
little  children's  pets,  must  take  special  care  of  our  Rover. 

Rover  had  very  tender  domestic  affections.  His  attach- 
ment to  his  little  playfellows  was  most  intense ;  and  one 
time,  when  all  of  them  were  taken  off  together  on  a  week's 
excursion,  and  Rover  left  alone  at  home,  his  low  spirits 
were  really  pitiful.  He  refused  entirely  to  eat  for  the 
first  day,  and  finally  could  only  be  coaxed  to  take  nour- 
ishment, with  many  strokings  and  caresses,  by  being  fed 
out  of  Miss  Anna's  own  hand.  What  perfectly  boisterous 
joy  he  showed  when  the  children  came  back!  —  careering 
round  and  round,  picking  up  chips  and  bits  of  sticks,  and 
coming  and  offering  them  to  one  and  another,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  doggish  heart,  to  show  how  much  he  wanted 
to  give  them  something. 

This  mode  of  signifying  his  love  by  bringing  something 
in  his  mouth  was  one  of  his  most  characteristic  tricks. 
At  one  time  he  followed  the  carriage  from  Brunswick  to 
Bath,  and  in  the  streets  of  the  city  somehow  lost  his 
way,  so  that  he  was  gone  all  night.  Many  a  little  heart 


IO6  OUR   DOGS. 

went  to  bed  anxious  and  sorrowful  for  the  loss  of  its 
shaggy  playfellow  that  night,  and  Rover  doubtless  was 
remembered  in  many  little  prayers ;  what,  therefore,  was 
the  joy  of  being  awakened  by  a  joyful  barking  under  the 
window  the  next  morning,  when  his  little  friends  rushed 
in  their  nightgowns  to  behold  Rover  back  again,  fresh 
and  frisky,  bearing  in  his  mouth  a  branch  of  a  tree  about 
six  feet  long,  as  his  offering  of  joy. 

When  the  family  removed  to  Zion  Hill,  Rover  went 
with  them,  the  trusty  and  established  family  friend.  Age 
had  somewhat  matured  his  early  friskiness.  Perhaps  the 
grave  neighborhood  of  a  theological  seminary  and  the  re- 
sponsibility of  being  a  Professor's  dog  might  have  something 
to  do  with  it,  but  Rover  gained  an  established  character  as 
a  dog  of  respectable  habits,  and  used  to  march  to  the  post- 
office  at  the  heels  of  his  master  twice  a  day,  as  regularly 
as  any  theological  student. 

Little  Charley  the  second  —  the  youngest  of  the  brood, 
who  took  the  place  of  our  lost  little  Prince  Charley  —  was 
yet  padding  about  in  short  robes,  and  seemed  to  regard 
Rover  in  the  light  of  a  discreet  older  brother,  and  Rover's 
manners  to  him  were  of  most  protecting  gentleness.  Char- 
ley seemed  to  consider  Rover  in  all  things  as  such  a 
model,  that  he  overlooked  the  difference  between  a  dog  and 
a  boy,  and  wearied  himself  with  fruitless  attempts  to  scratch 
his  ear  with  his  foot  as  Rover  did,  and  one  day  was  brought 


OUR  DOGS.  ID/ 

in  dripping  from  a  neighboring  swamp,  where  he  had  been 
lying  down  in  the  water,  because  Rover  did. 

Once  in  a  while  a  wild  oat  or  two  from  Rover's  old  sack 
would  seem  to  entangle  him.  Sometimes,  when  we  were 
driving  out,  he  would,  in  his  races  after  the  carriage,  make 
a  flying  leap  into  a  farmer's  yard,  and,  if  he  lighted  in  a 
flock  of  chickens  or  turkeys,  gobble  one  off-hand,  and  be 
off  again  and  a  mile  ahead  before  the  mother  hen  had 
recovered  from  her  astonishment.  Sometimes,  too,  he  would 
have  a  race  with  the  steam-engine  just  for  old  acquaintance' 
sake.  But  these  were  comparatively  transient  follies ;  in 
general,  no  members  of  the  grave  institutions  around  him 
behaved  with  more  dignity  and  decorum  than  Rover.  He 
tried  to  listen  to  his  master's  theological  lectures,  and  to 
attend  chapel  on  Sundays;  but  the  prejudices  of  society 
were  against  him,  and  so  he  meekly  submitted  to  be  shut 
out,  and  waited  outside  the  door  on  these  occasions. 

He  formed  a  part  of  every  domestic  scene.  At  family 
prayers,  stretched  out  beside  his  master,  he  looked  up  re- 
flectively with  his  great  soft  eyes,  and  seemed  to  join  in 
the  serious  feeling  of  the  hour.  When  all  were  gay,  when 
singing,  or  frolicking,  or  games  were  going  on,  Rover 
barked  and  frisked  in  higher  glee  than  any.  At  night  it 
was  his  joy  to  stretch  his  furry  length  by  our  bedside, 
where  he  slept  with  one  ear  on  cock  for  any  noise  which 
it  might  be  his  business  to  watch  and  attend  to.  It  was  a 


I  ©8  OUR  DOGS. 

comfort  to  hear  the  tinkle  of  his  collar  when  he  moved  in 
the  night,  or  to  be  wakened  by  his  cold  nose  pushed  against 
one's  hand  if  one  slept  late  in  the  morning.  And  then  he 
was  always  so  glad  when  we  woke ;  and  when  any  member 
of  the  family  circle  was  gone  for  a  few  days,  Rover's  warm 
delight  and  welcome  were  not  the  least  of  the  pleasures  of 
return. 

And  what  became  of  him  ?  Alas !  the  fashion  came  up 
of  poisoning  dogs,  and  this  poor,  good,  fond,  faithful  crea- 
ture was  enticed  into  swallowing  poisoned  meat.  One  day 
he  came  in  suddenly,  ill  and  frightened,  and  ran  to  the 
friends  who  always  had  protected  him,  —  but  in  vain.  In 
a  few  moments  he  was  in  convulsions,  and  all  the  tears 
and  sobs  of  his  playfellows  could  not  help  him  ;  he  closed 
his  bright,  loving  eyes,  and  died  in  their  arms. 

If  those  who  throw  poison  to  dogs  could  only  see  the 
real  grief  it  brings  into  a  family  to  lose  the  friend  and  play- 
fellow who  has  grown  up  with  the  children,  and  shared 
their  plays,  and  been  for  years  in  every  family  scene,  —  if 
they  could  know  how  sorrowful  it  is  to  see  the  poor  dumb 
friend  suffer  agonies  which  they  cannot  relieve,  —  if  they 
could  see  all  this,  we  have  faith  to  believe  they  never 
would  do  so  more. 

Our  poor  Rover  was  buried  with  decent  care  near  the 
house,  and  a  mound  of  petunias  over  him  kept  his  memory 
ever  bright ;  but  it  will  be  long  before  his  friends  will 
get  another  as  true. 


OUR  DOGS. 


III. 


AFTER  the  sad  fate  of  Rover,  there  came  a  long  in- 
terval in  which  we  had  no  dog.  Our  hearts  were  too 
sore  to  want  another.  His  collar,  tied  with  black  crape, 
hung  under  a  pretty  engraving  of  Landseer's,  called  "  My 
Dog,"  which  we  used  to  fancy  to  be  an  exact  resemblance 
of  our  pet. 

The  children  were  some  of  them  grown  up  and  gone  to 
school,  or  scattered  about  the  world.  If  ever  the  question 
of  another  dog  was  agitated,  papa  cut  it  short  with,  "  I 
won't  have  another ;  I  won't  be  made  to  feel  again  as  I 
did  about  Rover."  But  somehow  Mr.  Charley  the  younger 
got  his  eye  on  a  promising  litter  of  puppies,  and  at  last 
he  begged  papa  into  consenting  that  he  might  have  one 
of  them. 

It  was  a  little  black  mongrel,  of  no  particular  race  or 
breed,  —  a  mere  common  cur,  without  any  pretensions  to 
family,  but  the  best-natured,  jolliest  little  low-bred  pup  that 
ever  boy  had  for  a  playmate.  To  be  sure,  he  had  the 
usual  puppy  sins ;  he  would  run  away  with  papa's  slippers, 
and  boots,  and  stockings ;  he  would  be  under  everybody's 
feet,  at  the  most  inconvenient  moment ;  he  chewed  up  a 
hearth-broom  or  two,  and  pulled  one  of  Charley's  caps  to 
pieces  in  the  night,  with  an  industry  worthy  of  a  better 


IIO  OUR   DOGS. 

cause ;  —  still,  because  he  was  dear  to  Charley,  papa  and 
mamma  winked  very  hard  at  his  transgressions. 

The  name  of  this  little  black  individual  was  Stromion, 
—  a  name  taken  from  a  German  fairy  tale,  which  the  Pro- 
fessor was  very  fond  of  reading  in  the  domestic  circle ;  and 
Stromion,  by  dint  of  much  patience,  much  feeding,  and  very 
indulgent  treatment,  grew  up  into  a  very  fat,  common-look- 
ing black  cur  dog,  not  very  prepossessing  in  appearance 
and  manners,  but  possessed  of  the  very  best  heart  in  the 
world,  and  most  inconceivably  affectionate  and  good-natured. 
Sometimes  some  of  the  older  members  of  the  family  would 
trouble  Charley's  enjoyment  in  his  playfellow  by  suggesting 
that  he  was  no  blood  dog,  and  that  he  belonged  to  no  par- 
ticular dog  family  that  could  be  named.  Papa  comforted 
him  by  the  assurance  that  Stromion  did  belong  to  a  very 
old  and  respectable  breed,  —  that  he  was  a  mongrel;  and 
Charley  after  that  valued  him  excessively  under  this  head  ; 
and  if  any  one  tauntingly  remarked  that  Stromion  was 
only  a  cur,  he  would  flame  up  in  his  defence,  — "  He  is  n't 
a  cur,  he's  a  mongrel,"  introducing  him  to  strangers  with 
the  addition  to  all  his  other  virtues,  that  he  was  a  "pure 
mongrel,  —  papa  says  so." 

The  edict  against  dogs  in  the  family  having  once  been 
broken  down,  Master  Will  proceeded  to  gratify  his  own 
impulses,  and  soon  led  home  to  the  family  circle  an  enor- 
mous old  black  Newfoundland,  of  pure  breed,  which  had 


OUR   DOGS.  Ill 

been  presented  him  by  a  man  who  was  leaving  the  place. 
Prince  was  in  the  decline  of  his  days,  but  a"  fine,  majestic 
old  fellow.  He  had  a  sagacity  and  capacity  of  personal 
affection  which  were  uncommon.  Many  dogs  will  change 
from  master  to  master  without  the  least  discomposure.  A 
good  bone  will  compensate  for  any  loss  of  the  heart,  and 
make  a  new  friend  seem  quite  as  good  as  an  old  one.  But 
Prince  had  his  affections  quite  as  distinctly  as  a  human 
being,  and  we  learned  this  to  our  sorrow  when  he  had  to 
be  weaned  from  his  old  master  under  our  roof.  His  howls 
and  lamentations  were  so  dismal  and  protracted,  that  the 
house  could  not  contain  him  ;  we  were  obliged  to  put  him 
into  an  outhouse  to  compose  his  mind,  and  we  still  have  a 
vivid  image  of  him  sitting,  the  picture  of  despair,  over  an 
untasted  mutton  shank,  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  and  the 
most  dismal  howls  proceeding  from  his  mouth.  Time,  the 
comforter,  however,  assuaged  his  grief,  and  he  came  at  last 
to  transfer  all  his  stores  of  affection  to  Will,  and  to  con- 
sider himself  once  more  as  a  dog  with  a  master. 

Prince  used  to  inhabit  his  young  master's  apartment,  from 
the  window  of  which  he  would  howl  dismally  when  Will 
left  him  to  go  to  the  academy  near  by,  and  yelp  trium- 
phant welcomes  when  he  saw  him  returning.  He  was  really 
and  passionately  fond  of  music,  and,  though  strictly  forbid- 
den the  parlor,  would  push  and  elbow  his  way  there  with 
dogged  determination  when  there  was  playing  or  singing. 


112  OUR   DOGS. 

Any  one  who  should  have  seen  Prince's  air  when  he  had  a 
point  to  carry,  would  understand  why  quiet  obstinacy  is 
called  doggedness. 

The  female  members  of  the  family,  seeing  that  two  dogs 
had  gained  admission  to  the  circle,  had  cast  their  eyes  ad- 
miringly on  a  charming  little  Italian  greyhound,  that  was 
living  in  doleful  captivity  at  a  dog-fancier's  in  Boston,  and 
resolved  to  set  him  free  and  have  him  for  their  own.  Ac- 
cordingly they  returned  one  day  in  triumph,  with  him  in 
their  arms,  —  a  fair,  delicate  creature,  white  as  snow,  except 
one  mouse-colored  ear.  He  was  received  with  enthusiasm, 
and  christened  Giglio ;  the  honors  of  his  first  bath  and 
toilette  were  performed  by  Mademoiselles  the  young  ladies 
on  their  knees,  as  if  he  had  been  in  reality  young  Prince 
Giglio  from  fairy-land. 

Of  all  beautiful  shapes  in  dog  form,  never  was  there  one 
more  perfect  than  this.  His  hair  shone  like  spun  glass, 
and  his  skin  was  as  fine  and  pink  as  that  of  a  baby ;  his 
paws  and  ears  were  translucent  like  fine  china,  and  he  had 
great,  soft,  tremulous  dark  eyes ;  his  every  movement  seemed 
more  graceful  than  the  last.  •  Whether  running  or  leaping, 
or  sitting  in  graceful  attitudes  on  the  parlor  table  among 
the  ladies'  embroidery-frames,  with  a  great  rose-colored  bow 
under  his  throat,  he  was  alike  a  thing  of  beauty,  and  his 
beauty  alone  won  all  hearts  to  him. 

When  the  papa  first  learned  that  a  third  dog  had  been 


OUR   DOGS. 


introduced  into  the  household,  his  patience  gave  way.  The 
thing  was  getting  desperate ;  we  were  being  overrun  with 
dogs ;  our  house  was  no  more  a  house,  but  a  kennel ;  it 
ought  to  be  called  Cunopolis,  —  a  city  of  dogs;  he  could 
not  and  would  not  have  it  so ;  but  papa,  like  most  other 
indulgent  old  gentlemen,  was  soon  reconciled  to  the  chil- 
dren's pets.  In  fact,  Giglio  was  found  cowering  under  the 
bed-clothes  at  the  Professor's  feet  not  two  mornings  after 
his  arrival,  and  the  good  gentleman  descended  with  him  in 
his  arms  to  breakfast,  talking  to  him  in  the  most  devoted 
manner:  —  "Poor  little  Giglio,  was  he  cold  last  night?  and 
8 


114  OUR   DOGS. 

did  he  want  to  get  into  papa's  bed  ?  he  should  be  brought 
down  stairs,  that  he  should "  ; —  all  which,  addressed  to  a 
young  rascal  whose  sinews  were  all  like  steel,  and  who 
could  have  jumped  from  the  top  stair  to  the  bottom  like  a 
feather,  was  sufficiently  amusing. 

Giglio's  singular  beauty  and  grace  were  his  only  merits ; 
he  had  no  love  nor  power  of  loving ;  he  liked  to  be  petted 
and  kept  warm,  but  it  mattered  nothing  to  him  who  did  it. 
He  was  as  ready  to  run  off  with  a  stranger  as  with  his 
very  best  friend,  —  would  follow  any  whistle  or  any  caller, 
—  was,  in  fact,  such  a  gay  rover,  that  we  came  very  near 
losing  him  many  times ;  and  more  than  once  he  was  brought 
back  from  the  Boston  cars,  on  board  which  he  had  followed 
a  stranger.  He  also  had,  we  grieve  to  say,  very  careless 
habits ;  and  after  being  washed  white  as  snow,  and  adorned 
with  choice  rose-colored  ribbons,  would  be  brought  back 
soiled  and  ill-smelling  from  a  neighbor's  livery-stable,  where 
he  had  been  indulging  in  low  society.  For  all  that,  he  was 
very  lordly  and  aristocratic  in  his  airs  with  poor  Stromion, 
who  was  a  dog  with  a  good,  loving  heart,  if  he  was  black 
and  homely.  Stromion  admired  Giglio  with  the  most  evident 
devotion  ;  he  would  always  get  up  to  give  him  the  warm 
corner,  and  would  sit  humbly  in  the  distance  and  gaze  on 
him  with  most  longing  admiration,  —  for  all  of  which  my 
fine  gentleman  rewarded  him  only  with  an  occasional  snarl 
or  a  nip,  as  he  went  by  him.  Sometimes  Giglio  would  con- 


OUR   DOGS.  115 

descend  to  have  a  romp  with  Stromion  for  the  sake  of 
passing  the  time,  and  then  Stromion  would  be  perfectly 
delighted,  and  frisk  and  roll  his  clumsy  body  over  the  car- 
pet with  his  graceful  antagonist,  all  whose  motions  were  a 
study  for  an  artist.  When  Giglio  was  tired  of  play,  he 
would  give  Stromion  a  nip  that  would  send  him  yelping 
from  the  field ;  and  then  he  would  tick,  tick  gracefully  away 
to  some  embroidered  ottoman  forbidden  to  all  but  himself, 
where  he  would  sit  graceful  and  classical  as  some  Etruscan 
vase,  and  look  down  superior  on  the  humble  companion 
who  looked  up  to  him  with  respectful  admiration. 

Giglio  knew  his  own  good  points,  and  was  possessed  with 
the  very  spirit  of  a  coquette.  He  would  sometimes  obsti- 
nately refuse  the  caresses  and  offered  lap  of  his  mistresses, 
and  seek  to  ingratiate  himself  with  some  stolid  theological 
visitor,  for  no  other  earthly  purpose  that  we  could  see  than 
that  he  was  determined  to  make  himself  the  object  of  at- 
tention. We  have  seen  him  persist  in  jumping  time  and 
again  on  the  hard,  bony  knees  of  some  man  who  hated 
dogs,  and  did  not  mean  to  notice  him,  until  he  won  atten- 
tion and  caresses,  when  immediately  he  would  spring  down 
and  tick  away  perfectly  contented.  He  assumed  lofty,  fine- 
gentleman  airs  with  Prince  also,  for  which  sometimes  he 
got  his  reward,  —  for  Prince,  the  old,  remembered  that  he 
was  a  dog  of  blood,  and  would  not  take  any  nonsense  from 
him. 


Il6  OUR   DOGS. 

Like  many  old  dogs,  Prince  had  a  very  powerful  doggy 
smell,  which  was  a  great  personal  objection  to  him,  and 
Giglio  was  always  in  a  civil  way  making  reflections  upon 
this  weak  point.  Prince  was  fond  of  indulging  himself  with 
an  afternoon  nap  on  the  door-mat,  and  sometimes  when  he 
rose  from  his  repose,  Giglio  would  spring  gracefully  from 
the  table  where  he  had  been  overlooking  him,  and,  picking 
his  way  daintily  to  the  mat,  would  snuff  at  it,  with  his 
long,  thin  nose,  with  an  air  of  extreme  disgust.  It  was 
evidently  a  dog  insult,  done  according  to  the  politest  modes 
of  refined  society,  and  said  as  plain  as  words  could  say,  — 
"My  dear  sir,  excuse  me,  but  can  you  tell  what  makes  this 
peculiar  smell  where  you  have  been  lying?"  At  any  rate, 
Prince  understood  the  sarcasm,  for  a  deep  angry  growl  and 
a  sharp  nip  would  now  and  then  teach  my  fine  gentleman 
to  mind  his  own  business. 

Giglio's  lot  at  last  was  to  travel  in  foreign  lands,  for  his 
young  mistresses,  being  sent  to  school  in  Paris,  took  him 
with  them  to  finish  his  education  and  acquire  foreign 
graces.  He  was  smuggled  on  board  the  Fulton,  and  placed 
in  an  upper  berth,  well  wrapped  in  a  blanket ;  and  the 
last  we  saw  of  him  was  his  long,  thin  Italian  nose,  and 
dark,  tremulous  eyes  looking  wistfully  at  us  from  the  folds 
of  the  flannel  in  which  he  shivered.  Sensitiveness  to  cold 
was  one  of  his  great  peculiarities.  In  winter  he  wore  little 
blankets,  which  his  fond  mistresses  made  with  anxious 


OUR   DOGS.  II/ 

care,  and  on  which  his  initials  were  embroidered  with 
their  own  hands.  In  the  winter  weather  on  Zion  Hill  he 
was  often  severely  put  to  it  to  gratify  his  love  of  roving  in 
the  cold  snows ;  he  would  hold  up  first  one  leg,  and  then 
the  other,  and  contrive  to  get  along  on  three,  so  as  to  save 
himself  as  much  as  possible  ;  and  more  than  once  he  caught 
severe  colds,  requiring  careful  nursing  and  medical  treat- 
ment to  bring  him  round  again. 

•i 

The  Fulton  sailed  early  in  March.  It  was  chilly,  stormy 
weather,  so  that  the  passengers  all  suffered  somewhat  with 
cold,  and  Master  Giglio  was  glad  to  lie  rolled  in  his  blank- 
et, looking  like  a  sea-sick  gentleman.  The  captain  very 
generously  allowed  him  a  free  passage,  and  in  pleasant 
weather  he  used  to  promenade  the  deck,  where  his  beauty 
won  for  him  caresses  and  attentions  innumerable.  The  stew- 
ards and  cooks  always  had  choice  morsels  for  him,  and  fed 
him  to  such  a  degree  as  would  have  spoiled  any  other 
dog's  figure ;  but  his  could  not  be  spoiled.  All  the  ladies 
vied  with  each  other  in  seeking  his  good  graces,  and  after 
dinner  he  pattered  from  one  to  another,  to  be  fed  with 
sweet  things  and  confectionery,  and  hear  his  own  praises, 
like  a  gay  buck  of  fashion  as  he  was. 

Landed  in  Paris,  he  met  a  warm  reception  at  the  Pen- 
sion of  Madame  B ;  but  ambition  filled  his  breast.  He 

was  in  the  great,  gay  city  of  Paris,  the  place  where  a 
handsome  dog  has  but  to  appear  to  make  his  fortune,  and 


Il8  OUR  DOGS. 

so  Giglio  resolved  to  seek  out  for  himself  a  more  brilliant 
destiny. 

One  day,  when  he  was  being  led  to  take  the  air  in  the 
court,  he  slipped  his  leash,  sped  through  the  gate,  and 
away  down  the  street  like  the  wind.  It  was  idle  to  at- 
tempt to  follow  him  ;  he  was  gone  like  a  bird  in  the  air, 
and  left  the  hearts  of  his  young  mistresses  quite  desolate. 

Some  months  after,  as  they  were  one  evening  eating  ices 
in  the  Champs  Elysees,  a  splendid  carriage  drove  up,  from 
which  descended  a  liveried  servant,  with  a  dog  in  his  arms. 
It  was  Giglio,  the  faithless  Giglio,  with  his  one  mouse- 
colored  ear,  that  marked  him  from  all  other  dogs !  He  had 
evidently  accomplished  his  destiny,  and  become  the  darling 
of  rank  and  fashion,  rode  in  an  elegant  carriage,  and  had 
a  servant  in  livery  devoted  to  him.  Of  course  he  did  not 
pretend  to  notice  his  former  friends.  The  footman,  who 
had  come  out  apparently  to  give  him  an  airing,  led  him 
up  and  down  close  by  where  they  were  sitting,  and  be- 
stowed on  him  the  most  devoted  attentions.  Of  course 
there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  reclaim  him,  and  so  they 
took  their  last  look  of  the  fair  inconstant,  and  left  him  to 
his  brilliant  destiny.  And  thus  ends  the  history  of  PKINCE 
GIGLIO. 


OUR   DOGS.  119 


IV. 


A  FTER  Prince  Giglio  deserted  us  and  proved  so  faith- 
•^*-  less,  we  were  for  a  while  determined  not  to  have 
another  pet.  They  were  all  good  for  nothing,  —  all  alike 
ungrateful ;  we  forswore  the  whole  race  of  dogs.  But  the 
next  winter  we  went  to  live  in  the  beautiful  city  of  Flor- 
ence, in  Italy,  and  there,  in  spite  of  all  our  protestations, 
our  hearts  were  again  ensnared. 

You  must  know  that  in  the  neighborhood  of  Florence 
is  a  celebrated  villa,  owned  by  a  Russian  nobleman,  Prince 
Demidoff,  and  that  among  other  fine  things  that  are  to 
be  found  there  are  a  very  nice  breed  of  King  Charles 
spaniels,  which  are  called  Demidoffs,  after  the  place.  One 
of  these,  a  pretty  little  creature,  was  presented  to  us  by  a 
kind  lady,  and  our  resolution  against  having  any  more  pets 
all  melted  away  in  view  of  the  soft,  beseeching  eyes,  the 
fine,  silky  ears,  the  glossy,  wavy  hair,  and  bright  chest- 
nut paws  of  the  new  favorite.  She  was  exactly  such  a 
pretty  creature  as  one  sees  painted  in  some  of  the  splen- 
did old  Italian  pictures,  and  which  Mr.  Ruskin  describes  as 
belonging  to  the  race  of  "  fringy  paws."  The  little  creature 
was  warmly  received  among  us  ;  an  ottoman  was  set  apart 
for  her  to  lie  on  ;  and  a  bright  bow  of  green,  red,  and 
white  ribbon,  the  Italian  colors,  was  prepared  for  her  neck ; 
and  she  was  christened  Florence,  after  her  native  city. 


120 


OUR   DOGS. 


Florence  was  a  perfect  little  fine  lady,  and  a  perfect 
Italian,  —  sensitive,  intelligent,  nervous,  passionate,  and  con- 
stant in  her  attachments,  but  with  a  hundred  little  whims 
and  fancies  that  required  petting  and  tending  hourly.  She 
was  perfectly  miserable  if  she  was  not  allowed  to  attend  us 
in  our  daily  drives,  yet  in  the  carriage  she  was  so  excit- 
able and  restless,  so  interested  to  take  part  in  everything 
she  saw  and  heard  in  the  street,  that  it  was  all  we  could 
do  to  hold  her  in  and  make  her  behave  herself  decently. 
She  was  nothing  but  a  little  bundle  of  nerves,  apparently 


OUR  DOGS.  121 

all  the  while  in  a  tremble  of  excitement  about  one  thing 
or  another  ;  she  was  so  disconsolate  if  left  at  home,  that 
she  went  everywhere  with  us.  She  visited  the  picture- 
galleries,  the  museums,  and  all  the  approved  sights  of  Flor- 
ence, and  improved  her  mind  as  much  as  many  other 
young  ladies  who  do  the  same. 

Then  we  removed  from  Florence  to  Rome,  and  poor  Flo 
was  direfully^  sea-sick  on  board  the  steamboat,  in  company 
with  all  her  young  mistresses,  but  recovered  herself  at 
Civita  Vecchia,  and  entered  Rome  in  high  feather.  There 
she  settled  herself  complacently  in  our  new  lodgings,  which 
were  far  more  spacious  and  elegant  than  those  we  had  left 
in  Florence,  and  began  to  claim  her  little  rights  in  all  the 
sight-seeing  of  the  Eternal  City. 

She  went  with  us  to  palaces  and  to  ruins,  scrambling  up 
and  down,  hither  and  thither,  with  the  utmost  show  of  in- 
terest. She  went  up  all  the  stairs  to  the  top  of  the  Capi- 
tol, except  the  very  highest  and  last,  where  she  put  on 
airs,  whimpered,  and  professed  such  little  frights,  that  her 
mistress  was  forced  to  carry  her ;  but  once  on  top,  she 
barked  from  right  to  left,  —  now  at  the  snowy  top  of  old 
Soracte,  now  at  the  great,  wide,  desolate  plains  of  the 
Campagna,  and  now  at  the  old  ruins  of  the  Roman  Forum 
down  under  our  feet.  Upon  all  she  had  her  own  opinion, 
and  was  not  backward  to  express  herself.  At  other  times 
she  used  to  ride  with  us  to  a  beautiful  country  villa  out- 


122  OUR   DOGS. 

side  of  the  walls  of  Rome,  called  the  Pamfili  Doria.  How 
beautiful  and  lovely  this  place  was  I  can  scarcely  tell  my 
little  friends.  There  were  long  alleys  and  walks  of  the 
most  beautiful  trees  ;  there  were  winding  paths  leading  to 
all  manner  of  beautiful  grottos,  and  charming  fountains, 
and  the  wide  lawns  used  to  be  covered  with  the  most 
lovely  flowers.  There  were  anemones  that  looked  like  little 
tulips,  growing  about  an  inch  and  a  half  high,  and  of  all 
colors,  —  blue,  purple,  lilac,  pink,  crimson,  and  white,  —  and 
there  were  great  beds  of  fragrant  blue  and  white  violets. 
Is  to  the  charming  grace  and  beauty  of  the  fountains  that 
were  to  be  found  here  and  there  all  through  the  grounds, 
I  could  not  describe  them  to  you.  They  were  made  of 
marble,  carved  in  all  sorts  of  fanciful  devices,  and  grown 
over  with  green  mosses  and  maidenhair. 

What  spirits  little  Miss  Flo  had,  when  once  set  down  in 
these  enchanting  fields !  While  all  her  mistresses  were 
gathering  lapfuls  of  many-colored  anemones,  violets,  and  all 
sorts  of  beautiful  things,  Flo  would  snuff  the  air,  and  run 
and  race  hither  and  thither,  with  her  silky  ears  flying  and 
her  whole  little  body  quivering  with  excitement.  Now  she 
would  race  round  the  grand  basin  of  a  fountain,  and  bark 
with  all  her  might  at  the  great  white  swans  that  were 
swelling  and  ruffling  their  silver-white  plumage,  and  took 
her  noisy  attentions  with  all  possible  composure.  Then  she 
would  run  off  down  some  long  side-alley  after  a  lot  of 


OUR   DOGS.  123 

French  soldiers,  whose  gay  red  legs  and  blue  coats  seemed 
to  please  her  mightily;  and  many  a  fine  chase  she  gave 
her  mistresses,  who  were  obliged  to  run  up  and  down,  here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  to  find  her  when  they  wanted  to  go 
home  again. 

One  time  my  lady's  friskiness  brought  her  into  quite  a 
serious  trouble,  as  you  shall  hear.  We  were  all  going  to 
St.  Peter's  Church,  and  just  as  we  came  to  the  bridge  of 
St.  Angelo,  that  crosses  the  Tiber,  we  met  quite  a  con- 
course of  carriages.  Up  jumped  my  lady  Florence,  all  alive 
and  busy,  —  for  she  always  reckoned  everything  that  was 
going  on  a  part  of  her  business,  —  and  gave  such  a  spring 
that  over  she  went,  sheer  out  of  the  carriage,  into  the 
mixed  medley  of  carriages,  horses,  and  people  below.  We 
were  all  frightened  enough,  but  not  half  so  frightened  as 
she  was,  as  she  ran  blindly  down  a  street,  followed  by  a 
perfect  train  of  ragged  little  black-eyed,  black-haired  boys, 
all  shouting  and  screaming  after  her.  As  soon  as  he  could, 
our  courier  got  down  and  ran  after  her,  but  he  might  as 
well  have  chased  a  streak  of  summer  lightning.  She  was 
down  the  street,  round  the  corner,  and  lost  to  view,  with 
all  the  ragamuffin  tribe,  men,  boys,  and  women,  after  her ; 
and  so  we  thought  we  had  lost  her,  and  came  home  to  our 
lodgings  very  desolate  in  heart,  when  lo  !  our  old  porter 
told  us  that  a  little  dog  that  looked  like  ours  had  come 
begging  and  whining  at  our  street  door,  but  before  he  could 


124  OUR   DOGS. 

open  it  the  poor  little  wanderer  had  been  chased  away 
again  and  gone  down  the  street.  After  a  while  some  very 
polite  French  soldiers  picked  her  up  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna, 
—  a  great  public  square  near  our  dwelling,  to  get  into  which 
we  were  obliged  to  go  down  some  one  or  two  hundred 
steps.  We  could  fancy  our  poor  Flo,  frightened  and  pant- 
ing, flying  like  a  meteor  down  these  steps,  till  she  was 
brought  up  by  the  arms  of  a  soldier  below. 

Glad  enough  were  we  when  the  polite  soldier  brought 
her  back  to  our  doors ;  —  and  one  must  say  one  good  thing 
for  French  s^diers  all  the  world  over,  that  they  are  the 
pleasantest-tempered  and  politest  people  possible,  so  very 
tender-hearted  towards  all  sorts  of  little  defenceless  pets,  so 
that  our  poor  runaway  could  not  have  fallen  into  better 
hands. 

After  this,  we  were  careful  to  hold  her  more  firmly  when 
she  had  her  little  nervous  starts  and  struggles  in  riding 
about  Rome. 

One  day  we  had  been  riding  outside  of  the  walls  of  the 
city,  and  just  as  we  were  returning  home  we  saw  coming 
towards  us  quite  a  number  of  splendid  carriages  with 
prancing  black  horses.  It  was  the  Pope  and  several  of 
his  cardinals  coming  out  for  an  afternoon  airing.  The  car- 
riages stopped,  and  the  Pope  and  cardinals  all  got  out  to 
take  a  little  exercise  on  foot,  and  immediately  all  carriages 
that  were  in  the  way  drew  to  one  side,  and  those  of  the 


OUR   DOGS.  125 

people  in  them  who  were  Roman  Catholics  got  out  and 
knelt  down  to  wait  for  the  Pope's  blessing  as  he  went  by. 
As  for  us,  we  were  contented  to  wait  sitting  in  the  carriage. 

On  came  the  Pope,  looking  like  a  fat,  mild,  kind-hearted 
old  gentleman,  smiling  and  blessing  the  people  as  he  went 
on,  and  the  cardinals  scuffing  along  in  the  dust  behind 
him.  He  walked  very  near  to  our  carriage,  and  Miss 
Florence,  notwithstanding  all  our  attempts  to  keep  her 
decent,  would  give  a  smart  little  bow-wow  right  in  his  face 
just  as  he  was  passing.  He  smiled  benignly,  and  put  out 
his  hand  in  sign  of  blessing  toward  our  carriage,  and 
Florence  doubtless  got  what  she  had  been  asking  for. 

From  Rome  we  travelled  to  Naples,  and  Miss  Flo  went 
with  us  through  our  various  adventures  there,  —  up  Mount 
Vesuvius,  where  she  half  choked  herself  with  sulphurous 
smoke.  There  is  a  place  near  Naples  called  the  Solfatara, 
which  is  thought  to  be  the  crater  of  the  extinct  volcano, 
where  there  is  a  cave  that  hisses,  and  roars,  and  puffs  out 
scalding  steam  like  a  perpetual  locomotive,  and  all  the 
ground  around  shakes  and  quivers  as  if  it  were  only  a 
crust  over  some  terrible  abyss.  The  pools  of  water  are  all 
white  with  sulphuf ;  the  ground  is  made  of  sulphur  and 
arsenic  and  all  such,  sort  of  uncanny  matters ;  and  we 
were  in  a  fine  fright  lest  Miss  Florence,  being  in  one  of 
her  wildest  and  most  indiscreet  moods,  should  tumble  into 
some  burning  hole,  or  strangle  herself  with  sulphur ;  and 


126  OUR   DOGS. 

in  fact  she  rolled  over  and  over  in  a  sulphur  puddle,  and 
then,  scampering  off,  rolled  in  ashes  by  way  of  cleaning 
herself.  We  could  not,  however,  leave  her  at  home  during 
any  of  our  excursions,  and  so  had  to  make  the  best  of 
these  imprudences. 

When  at  last  the  time  came  for  us  to  leave  Italy,  we 
were  warned  that  Florence  would  not  be  allowed  to  travel 
in  the  railroad  cars  in  the  French  territories.  All  dogs,  of 
all  sizes  and  kinds,  whose  owners  wish  to  have  travel  with 
them,  are  shut  up  in  a  sort  of  closet  by  themselves,  called 
the  dog-car ;  and  we  thought  our  nervous,  excitable  little 
pet  would  be  frightened  into  fits,  to  be  separated  from 
all  her  friends,  and  made  to  travel  with  all  sorts  of  strange 
dogs.  So  we  determined  to  smuggle  her  along  in  a  bas- 
ket. At  Turin  we  bought  a  little  black  basket,  just  big 
enough  to  contain  her,  and  into  it  we  made  her  go,  — 
very  sorely  against  her  will,  as  we  could  not  explain  to 
her  the  reason  why.  Very  guilty  indeed  we  felt,  with  this 
travelling  conveyance  hung  on  one  arm,  sitting  in  the 
waiting-room,  and  dreading  every  minute  lest  somebody 
should  see  the  great  bright  eyes  peeping  through  the  holes 
of  the  basket,  or  hear  the  subdued  little 'whines  and  howls 
which  every  now  and  then  came  from  its  depths. 

Florence  had  been  a  petted  lady,  used  to  having  her  own 
way,  and  a  great  deal  of  it ;  and  this  being  put  up  in  a 
little  black  basket,  where  she  could  neither  make  her  re- 


OUR   DOGS.  127 

marks  on  the  scenery,  nor  join  in    the  conversation  of  her 
young  mistresses,  seemed  to  her  a  piece  of  caprice  without 
rhyme  or  reason.     So  every  once  in  a  while  she  would  ex- 
press her  mind  on    the   subject   by  a   sudden    dismal    little 
whine;   and  what  was  specially  trying,  she, would  take  the 
occasion   to    do    this  when    the    cars    stopped    and    all  was 
quiet,    so    that    everybody    could    hear    her.     Where 's    that 
dog  ?  —  somebody 's  got  a  dog    in    here,  —  was   the   inquiry 
very  plain    to    be  seen  in    the    suspicious    looks  which    the 
guard  cast  upon  us  as  he  put   his  head    into  our   compart- 
ment, and    gazed   about   inquiringly.     Finally,  to    our  great 
terror,  a  railway  director,  a  tall,  gentlemanly  man,  took  his 
seat  in  our  very  compartment,  where  Miss  Florence's  basket 
garnished  the  pocket  above  our  heads,  and  she  was  in  one 
of  her  most  querulous  moods.     At  every  stopping-place  she 
gave  her  little  sniffs  and    howls,  and    rattled    her  basket  so 
as  to  draw  all   eyes.     We  all   tried   to    look    innocent   and 
unconscious,    but    the    polite    railroad   director    very    easily 
perceived    what    was    the    matter.      He    looked    from    one 
anxious,    half-laughing    face    to    the    others,    with    a    kindly 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  but  said   nothing.     All  the   guards  and 
employes  bowed   down  to   him,  and    came    cap    in    hand    at 
every  stopping-place    to  take    his  orders.     What  a   relief  it 
was   to   hear   him    say,   in   a   low  voice,   to   them :   "  These 
young   ladies   have   a   little   dog   which   they   are    carrying. 
Take   no   notice   of   it,   and    do   not   disturb    them ! "      Of 


128  OUR   DOGS. 

course,  after  that,  though  Florence  barked  and  howled  and 
rattled  her  basket,  and  sometimes  showed  her  great  eyes, 
like  two  coal-black  diamonds,  through  its  lattice-work, 
nobody  saw  and  nobody  heard,  and  we  came  unmolested 
with  her  to  Paris. 

After  a  while  she  grew  accustomed  to  her  little  travel- 
ling carriage,  and  resigned  herself  quietly  to  go  to  sleep 
in  it ;  and  so  we  got  her  from  Paris  to  Kent,  where  we 
stopped  a  few  days  to  visit  some  friends  in  a  lovely  coun- 
try place  called  Swaylands. 

Here  we  had  presented  to  us  another  pet,  that  was 
ever  after  the  chosen  companion  and  fast  friend  of  Flor- 
ence. He  was  a  little  Skye  terrier,  of  the  color  of  a  Mal- 
tese cat,  covered  all  over  with  fine,  long,  silky  hair,  which 
hung  down  so  evenly,  that  it  was  difficult  at  the  first  glance 
to  say  which  was  his  head  and  which  his  tail.  But  at  the 
head  end  there  gleamed  out  a  pair  of  great,  soft,  speaking 
eyes,  that  formed  the  only  beauty  of  the  creature  ;  and 
very  beautiful  they  were,  in  their  soft,  beseeching  loving- 
ness. 

Poor  Rag  had  the  tenderest  heart  that  ever  was  hid  in 
a  bundle  of  hair ;  he  was  fidelity  and  devotion  itself,  and 
used  to  lie  at  our  feet  in  the  railroad  carriages  as  still  as 
a  gray  sheep-skin,  only  too  happy  to  be  there  on  any 
terms.  It  would  be  too  long  to  tell  our  travelling  adven- 
tures in  England  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  at  last  we  went 


OUR  DOGS.  129 

on  board  the  Africa  to  come  home,  with  our  two  pets, 
which  had  to  be  handed  over  to  the  butcher,  and  slept  on 
quarters  of  mutton  and  sides  of  beef,  till  they  smelt  of  tal- 
low and  grew  fat  in  a  most  vulgar  way. 

At  last  both  of  them  were  safely  installed  in  the  brown 
stone  cottage  in  Andover,  and  Rag  was  presented  to  a 
young  lady  to  whom  he  had  been  sent  as  a  gift  from 
England,  and  to  whom  he  attached  himself  with  the  most 
faithful  devotion. 

Both  dogs  insisted  on  having  their  part  of  the  daily 
walks  and  drives  of  their  young  mistresses ;  and,  when  they 
observed  them  putting  on  their  hats,  would  run,  and  bark, 
and  leap,  and  make  as  much  noise  as  a  family  of  children 
clamoring  for  a  ride. 

After  a  few  months,  Florence  had  three  or  four  little 
puppies.  Very  puny  little  things  they  were ;  and  a  fierce, 
nervous  little  mother  she  made.  Her  eyes  looked  blue  as 
burnished  steel,  and  if  anybody  only  set  foot  in  the  room 
where  her  basket  was,  her  hair  would  bristle,  and  she 
would  bark  so  fiercely  as  to  be  quite  alarming.  For  all 
that,  her  little  ones  proved  quite  a  failure,  for  they  were 
all  stone-blind.  In  vain  we  waited  and  hoped  and  watched 
for  nine  days,  and  long  after;  the  eyes  were  glazed  and 
dim,  and  one  by  one  they  died.  The  last  two  seemed  to 
promise  to  survive,  and  were  familiarly  known  in  the  family 
circle  by  the  names  of  Milton  and  Beethoven. 


I3O  OUR   DOGS. 

But  the  fatigues  of  nursing  exhausted  the  delicate  consti- 
tution of  poor  Florence,  and  she  lay  all  one  day  in  spasms. 
It  became  evident  that  a  tranquil  passage  must  be  secured 
for  Milton  and  Beethoven  to  the  land  of  shades,  or  their 
little  mother  would  go  there  herself;  and  accordingly  they 
vanished  from  this  life. 

As  to  poor  Flo,  the  young  medical  student  in  the  family 
took  her  into  a  water-cure  course  of  treatment,  wrapping 
her  in  a  wet  napkin  first,  and  then  in  his  scarlet  flannel 
dressing-gown,  and  keeping  a  wet  cloth  with  iced  water 
round  her  head.  She  looked  out  of  her  wrappings,  patient 
and  pitiful,  like  a  very  small  old  African  female,  in  a  very 
serious  state  of  mind.  To  the  glory  of  the  water-cure, 
however,  this  course  in  one  day  so  cured  her,  that  she 
was  frisking  about  the  next,  happy  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

She  had,  however,  a  slight  attack  of  the  spasms,  which 
caused  her  to  run  frantically  and  cry  to  have  the  hall-door 
opened ;  and  when  it  was  opened,  she  scampered  up  in  all 
haste  into  the  chamber  of  her  medical  friend,  and,  not 
finding  him  there,  jumped  upon  his  bed,  and  began  with 
her  teeth  and  paws  to  get  around  her  the  scarlet  dressing- 
gown  in  which  she  had  found  relief  before.  So  she  was 
again  packed  in  wet  napkins,  and  after  that  never  had 
another  attack. 

After  this,  Florence  was  begged  from  us  by  a  lady  who 


OUR   DOGS.  131 

fell  in  love  with  her  beautiful  eyes,  and  she  went  to  reside 

in  a  most  lovely  cottage  in  H ,  where  she  received 

the  devoted  attentions  of  a  whole  family.  The  family 
physician,  however,  fell  violently  in  love  with  her,  and,  by 
dint  of  caring  for  her  in  certain  little  ailments,  awakened 
such  a  sentiment  in  return,  that  at  last  she  was  given  to 
him,  and  used  to  ride  about  in  state  with  him  in  his  car- 
riage, visiting  his  patients,  and  giving  her  opinion  on  their 
symptoms. 

At  last  her  health  grew  delicate  and  her  appetite  failed. 
In  vain  chicken,  and  chops,  and  all  the  delicacies  that  could 
tempt  the  most  fastidious,  were  offered  to  her,  cooked  ex- 
pressly for  her  table ;  the  end  of  all  things  fair  must  come, 
and  poor  Florence  breathed  her  last,  and  was  put  into  a 
little  rosewood  casket,  lined  with  white,  and  studded  with 
silver  nails,  and  so  buried  under  a  fine  group  of  chestnuts 
in  the  grounds  of  her  former  friends.  A  marble  tablet  was 
to  be  affixed  to  one  of  these,  commemorating  her  charms  ; 
but,  like  other  spoiled  beauties,  her  memory  soon  faded, 
and  the  tablet  has  been  forgotten. 

The  mistress  of  Rag,  who  is  devoted  to  his  memory,  in- 
sists that  not  enough  space  has  been  given  in  this  memoir 
to  his  virtues.  But  the  virtues  of  honest  Rag  were  of  that 
kind  which  can  be  told  in  a  few  sentences,  —  a  warm,  lov- 
ing heart,  a  boundless  desire  to  be  loved,  and  a  devotion 
that  made  him  regard  with  superstitious  veneration  all  the 


132  OUR   DOGS. 

movements  of  his  mistress.  The  only  shrewd  trick  he  pos- 
sessed was  a  habit  of  drawing  on  her  sympathy  by  feigning 
a  lame  leg  whenever  she  scolded  or  corrected  him.  In  his 
English  days  he  had  had  an  injury  from  the  kick  of  a 
horse,  which,  however,  had  long  since  been  healed ;  but  he 
remembered  the  petting  he  got  for  this  infirmity,  and  so 
recalled  it  whenever  he  found  that  his  mistress's  stock  of 
affection  was  running  low.  A  blow  or  a  harsh  word  would 
cause  him  to  limp  in  an  alarming  manner;  but  a  few 
caresses  would  set  matters  all  straight  again. 

Rag  had  been  a  frantic  ratter,  and  often  roused  the 
whole  family  by  his  savage  yells  after  rats  that  he  heard 
gambolling  quite  out  of  his  reach  behind  the  partitions  in 
the  china  closet.  He  would  crouch  his  head  on  his  fore- 
paws,  and  lie  watching  at  rat-holes,  in  hopes  of  intercepting 
some  transient  loafer ;  and  one  day  he  actually  broke  the 
back  and  bones  of  a  gray  old  thief  whom  he  caught  ma- 
rauding in  the  china  closet. 

Proud  and  happy  was  he  of  this  feat ;  but,  poor  fellow ! 
he  had  to  repose  on  the  laurels  thus  gained,  for  his  teeth 
were  old  and  poor,  and  more  than  one  old  rebel  slipped 
away  from  him,  leaving  him  screaming  with  disappointed 
ambition. 

At  last  poor  Rag  became  aged  and  toothless,  and  a 
shake  which  he  one  day  received  from  a  big  dog,  who  took 
him  for  a  bundle  of  wick-yarn,  hastened  the  breaking  up 


OUR   DOGS.  133 

of  his  constitution.  He  was  attacked  with  acute  rheuma- 
tism, and,  notwithstanding  the  most  assiduous  cares  of  his 
mistress,  died  at  last  in  her  arms. 

Funeral  honors  were  decreed  him  ;  white  chrysanthemums 
and  myrtle  leaves  decked  his  bier.  And  so  Rag  was  gath- 
ered to  the  dogs  which  had  gone  before  him. 


V. 


\  X  7"  ELL,  after  the  departure  of  Madam  Florence  there 
was  a  long  cessation  of  the  dog  mania  in  our  fam- 
ily. We  concluded  that  we  would  have  no  more  pets ;  for 
they  made  too  much  anxiety,  and  care,  and  trouble,  and 
broke  all  our  hearts  by  death  or  desertion.  ; 

At  last,  however,  some  neighbors  of  ours  took  unto  them- 
selves, to  enliven  their  dwelling,  a  little  saucy  Scotch  ter- 
rier, whose  bright  eyes  and  wicked  tricks  so  wrought  upon 
the  heart  of  one  of  our  juvenile  branches,  that  there  was 
no  rest  in  the  camp  without  this  addition  to  it.  Nothing 
was  so  pretty,  so  bright,  so  knowing  and  cunning,  as  a 
"  Scotch  terrier,"  and  a  Scotch  terrier  we  must  have,  —  so 
said  Miss  Jenny,  our  youngest. 

And  so  a  bargain  was  struck  by  one  of  Jenny's  friends 
with  some  of  the  knowing  ones  in  Boston,  and  home  she 
came,  the  happy  possessor  of  a  genuine  article,  —  as  wide 


134  °UR  DOGS. 

awake,  impertinent,  frisky,  and  wicked  a  little  elf  as  ever 
was  covered  with  a  shock  of  rough  tan-colored  hair. 

His  mistress  no  sooner  gazed  on  him,  than  she  was  in- 
spired to  give  him  a  name  suited  to  his  peculiar  character ; 
—  so  he  frisked  into  the  front  door  announced  as  Wix,  and 
soon  made  himself  perfectly  at  home  in  the  family  circle, 
which  he  took,  after  his  own  fashion,  by  storm.  He  entered 
the  house  like  a  small  whirlwind,  dashed,  the  first  thing, 
into  the  Professor's  study,  seized  a  slipper  which  was  dang- 
ling rather  uncertainly  on  one  of  his  studious  feet,  and, 
wresting  it  off,  raced  triumphantly  with  it  around  the  hall, 
barking  distractedly  every  minute  that  he  was  not  shaking 
and  worrying  his  prize. 

Great  was  the  sensation.  Grandma  tottered  with  trem- 
bling steps  to  the  door,  and  asked,  with  hesitating  tones, 
what  sort  of  a  creature  that  might  be ;  and  being  saluted 
with  the  jubilant  proclamation,  "Why,  Grandma,  it's  my 
dog,  —  a  real  genuine,  Scotch  terrier ;  he  '11  never  grow  any 
larger,  and  he  's  a  perfect  beauty !  don't  you  think  so  ? "  — 
Grandma  could  only  tremblingly  reply,  "O,  there  is  not 
any  danger  of  his  going  mad,  is  there  ?  Is  he  generally  so 
playful  ? " 

Playful  was  certainly  a  mild  term  for  the  tempest  of  ex- 
citement in  which  master  Wix  flew  round  and  round  in 
giddy  circles,  springing  over  ottomans,  diving  under  sofas, 
barking  from  beneath  chairs,  and  resisting  every  effort  to 


OUR   BOGS.  135 

recapture  the  slipper  with  bristling  hair  and  blazing  eyes, 
as  if  the  whole  of  his  dog-life  consisted  in  keeping  his 
prize ;  till  at  length  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  pussy's  tail,  — 
at  which,  dropping  the  slipper,  he  precipitated  himself  after 
the  flying  meteor,  tumbling,  rolling,  and  scratching  down 
the  kitchen  stair*,  and  standing  on  his  hind-legs  barking 
distractedly  at  poor  Tom,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  sink, 
and  sat  with  his  tail  magnified  to  the  size  of  a  small 
bolster. 

This  cat,  the  most  reputable  and  steady  individual  of  his 
species,  the  darling  of  the  most  respectable  of  cooks,  had 
received  the  name  of  Thomas  Henry,  by  which  somewhat 
lengthy  appellation  he  was  generally  designated  in  the  fam- 
ily circle,  as  a  mark  of  the  respect  which  his  serious  and 
contemplative  manner  commonly  excited.  Thomas  had  but 
one  trick  of  popularity.  With  much  painstaking  and  care 
the  cook  had  taught  him  the  act  of  performing  a  somerset 
over  our  hands  when  held  at  a  decent  height  from  the 
floor ;  and  for  this  one  elegant  accomplishment,  added  to 
great  success  in  his  calling  of  rat-catching,  he  was  held  in 
great  consideration  in  the  family,  and  had  meandered  his 
decorous  way  about  house,  slept  in  the  sun,  and  otherwise 
conducted  himself  with  the  innocent  and  tranquil  freedom 
which  became  a  family  cat  of  correct  habits  and  a  good 
conscience. 

The    irruption    of  Wix    into    our  establishment  was    like 


I$  OUR*  DOGS. 

the  bursting  of  a  bomb  at  the  feet  of  some  respectable 
citizen  going  tranquilly  to  market.  Thomas  was  a  cat  of 
courage,  and  rats  of  the  largest  size  shrunk  appalled  at  the 
very  sight  of  his  whiskers ;  but  now  he  sat  in  the  sink 
quite  cowed,  consulting  with  great,  anxious  yellow  eyes  the 
throng  of  faces  that  followed  Wix  dowjn  the  stairs,  and 
watching  anxiously  the  efforts  Miss  Jenny  was  making  to 
subdue  and  quiet  him. 

"Wix,  you  naughty  little  rascal,  you  must  n't  bark  at 
Thomas  Henry ;  be  still ! "  Whereat  Wix,  understanding 
himself  to  be  blamed,  brought  forth  his  trump  card  of  ac- 
complishments, which  he  always  offered  by  way  of  pacifica- 
tion whenever  he  was  scolded.  He  reared  himself  up  on 
his  hind-legs,  hung  his  head  languishingly  on  one  side, 
lolled  out  his  tongue,  and  made,  a  series  of  supplicatory 
gestures  with  his  fore-paws,  —  a  trick  which  never  failed 
to  bring  down  the  house  in  a  storm  of  applause,  and 
carry  him  out  of  any  scrape  with  flying  colors. 

Poor  Thomas  Henry,  from  his  desolate  sink,  saw  his  ter- 
rible rival  carried  off  in  Miss  Jenny's  arms  amid  the  ap- 
plauses of  the  whole  circle,  and  had  abundance  of  time  to 
reflect  on  the  unsubstantial  nature  of  popularity.  After 
that  he  grew  dejected  and  misanthropic,  —  a  real  Cardinal 
Wolsey  in  furs,  —  for  Wix  was  possessed  with  a  perfect 
cat-hunting  mania,  and,  whenever  he  was  not  employed  in 
other  mischief,  was  always  ready  for  a  bout  with  Thomas 
Henry. 


OUR  DOGS.  137 

It  is  true,  he  sometimes  came  back  from  these  encoun- 
ters with  a  scratched  and  bloody  nose,  for  Thomas  Henry 
was  a  cat  of  no  mean  claw,  and  would  turn  to  bay  at 
times ;  but  generally  he  felt  the  exertion  too  much  for  his 
advanced  years  and  quiet  habits,  and  so  for  safety  he 
passed  much  of  his  time  in  the  sink,  over  the  battlements 
of  which  he  would  leisurely  survey  the  efforts  of  the  enemy 
to  get  at  him.  The  cook  hinted  strongly  of  the  danger  of 
rheumatism  to  her  favorite  from  these  damp  quarters,  but 
Wix  at  present  was  the  reigning  favorite,  and  it  was  vain 
to  dispute  his  sway. 

Next  to  Thomas  Henry,  Wix  directed  his  principal 
efforts  to  teasing  Grandmamma.  Something  or  other  about 
her  black  dress  and  quiet  movements  seemed  to  suggest  to 
him  suspicions.  He  viewed  her  as  something  to  be  nar- 
rowly watched  ;  he  would  lie  down  under  some  chair  or 
table,  and  watch  her  motions  with  his  head  on  his  fore- 
paws  as  if  he  were  watching  at  a  rat-hole.  She  evidently 
was  not  a  rat,  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself,  but  who  knows 
what  she  may  be ;  and  he  would  wink  at  her  with  his 
great  bright  eyes,  and,  if  she  began  to  get  up,  would 
spring  from  his  ambush  and  bark  at  her  feet  with  frantic 
energy,  —  by  which  means  he  nearly  threw  her  over  two 
or  three  times. 

His  young  mistress  kept  a  rod,  and  put  him  through  a 
severe  course  of  discipline  for  these  offences ;  after  which 


138  OUR  DOGS. 

he  grew  more  careful,  —  but  still  the  unaccountable  fascina- 
tion seemed  to  continue  ;  still  he  would  lie  in  ambush,  and, 
though  forbidden  to  bark,  would  dart  stealthily  forward 
when  he  saw  her  preparing  to  rise,  and  be  under  her  dress 
smelling  in  a  suspicious  manner  at  her  heels.  He  would 
spring  from  his  place  at  the  fire,  and  rush  to  the  staircase 
when  he  heard  her  leisurely  step  descending  the  stairs, 
and  once  or  twice  nearly  overset  her  by  being  under  her 
heels,  bringing  on  himself  a  chastisement  which  he  in 
vain  sought  to  avert  by  the  most  vigorous  deprecatory 
pawing. 

Grandmamma's  favorite  evening  employment  was  to  sit 
sleeping  in  her  chair,  gradually  bobbing  her  head  lower 
and  lower,  —  all  which  movements  Wix  would  watch,  giving 
a  short  snap,  or  a  suppressed  growl,  at  every  bow.  What 
he  would  have  done,  if,  as  John  Bunyan  says,  he  had  been 
allowed  to  have  his  "  doggish  way "  with  her,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say.  Once  he  succeeded  in  seizing  the  slipper 
from  her  foot  as  she  sat  napping,  and  a  glorious  race  he 
had  with  it,  —  out  at  the  front  door,  up  the  path  to  the 
Theological  Seminary,  and  round  and  round  the  halls  con- 
secrated to  better  things,  with  all  the  glee  of  an  imp.  At 
another  time  he  made  a  dart  into  her  apartment,  and 
seized  a  turkey-wing  which  the  good  old  lady  had  used 
for  a  duster,  and  made  such  a  regular  forenoon's  work  of 
worrying,  shaking,  and  teasing  it,  that  every  feather  in  it 
was  utterly  demolished. 


OUR   DOGS.  139 

In  fact,  there  was  about  Wix  something  so  elfish  and 
impish,  that  there  began  to  be  shrewd  suspicions  that  he 
must  be  somehow  or  other  a  descendant  of  the  celebrated 
poodle  of  Faust,  and  that  one  need  not  be  surprised  some 
day  to  have  him  suddenly  looming  up  into  some  uncanny 
shape,  or  entering  into  conversation,  and  uttering  all 
sorts  of  improprieties  unbefitting  a  theological  professor's 
family. 

He  had  a  persistence  in  wicked  ways  that  resisted  the 
most  energetic  nurture  and  admonition  of  his  young  mis- 
tress. His  combativeness  was  such,  that  a  peaceable  walk 
down  the  fashionable  street  of  Zion  Hill  in  his  company 
became  impossible ;  all  was  race  and  scurry,  cackle  and 
flutter,  wherever  he  appeared,  —  hens  and  poultry  flying, 
frightened  cats  mounting  trees  with  magnified  tails,  dogs 
yelping  and  snarling,  and  children  and  cows  running  in 
every  direction.  No  modest  young  lady  could  possibly 
walk  out  in  company  with  such  a  son  of  confusion.  Be- 
side this,  Wix  had  his  own  private  inexplicable  personal 
piques  against  different  visitors  in  the  family,  and  in  the 
most  unexpected  moment  would  give  a  snap  or  a  nip  to 
the  most  unoffending  person.  His  friends  in  the  family 
circle  dropped  off.  His  ways  were  pronounced  too  bad, 
his  conduct  perfectly  indefensible  ;  his  young  mistress 
alone  clung  to  him,  and  declared  that  her  vigorous  sys- 
tem of  education  would  at  last  reform  his  eccentricities, 


I4O  OUR   DOGS. 

and  turn  him  out  a  tip-top  dog.  But  when  he  would  slyly 
leave  home,  and,  after  rolling  and  steeping  himself  in  the 
ill-smelling  deposits  of  the  stable  or  drain,  come  home 
and  spring  with  impudent  ease  into  her  lap,  or  put 
himself  to  sleep  on  her  little  white  bed,  the  magic  cords 
of  affection  gave  out,  and  disgust  began  to  succeed.  It 
began  to  be  remarked  that  this  was  a  stable-dog,  educated 
for  the  coach-boy  and  stable,  and  to  be  doubted  whether 
it  was  worth  while  to  endeavor  to  raise  him  to  a  lady's 
boudoir ;  and  so  at  last,  when  the  family  removed  from 
Zion  Hill,  he  was  taken  back  and  disposed  of  at  a  some- 
what reduced  price. 

Since  then,  as  we  are  informed,  he  has  risen  to  fame 
and  honor.  His  name  has  even  appeared  in  sporting  ga- 
zettes as  the  most  celebrated  "ratter"  in  little  Boston,  and 
his  mistress  was  solemnly  assured  by  his  present  possessor 
that  for  "  cat  work "  he  was  unequalled,  and  that  he  would 
not  take  fifty  dollars  for  him.  From  all  which  it  appears 
that  a  dog  which  is  only  a  torment  and  a  nuisance  in 
one  sphere  may  be  an  eminent  character  in  another. 

The  catalogue  of  our  dogs  ends  with  Wix.  Whether 
we  shall  ever  have  another  or  not  we  cannot  tell,  but  in 
the  following  pages  I  will  tell  my  young  readers  a  few  true 
stories  of  other  domestic  pets  which  may  amuse  them. 


DOGS    AND    CATS. 

A  ND  now,  with  all  and  each  of  the  young  friends  who 
•*"*•  have  read  these  little  histories  of  our  dogs,  we  want 
to  have  a  few  moments  of  quiet  chat  about  dogs  and 
household  pets  in  general. 

In  these  stories  you  must  have  noticed  that  each  dog 
had  as  much  his  own  character  as  if  he  had  been  a  human 
being.  Carlo  was  not  like  Rover,  nor  Rover  like  Giglio, 
nor  Giglio  like  Florence,  nor  Florence  like  Rag,  nor  Rag 
like  Wix,  —  any  more  than  Charley  is  like  Fred,  or  Fred 


142  DOGS   AND    CATS. 

like  Henry,  or  Henry  like  Eliza,  or  Eliza  like  Julia.  Every 
animal  has  his  own  character,  as  marked  and  distinct  as  a 
human  being.  Many  people  who  have  not  studied  much 
into  the  habits  of  animals  don't  know  this.  To  them  a 
dog  is  a  dog,  a  cat  a  cat,  a  horse  a  horse,  and  no  more, — 
that  is  the  end  of  it. 

But  domestic  animals  that  associate  with  human  beings 
develop  a  very  different  character  from  what  they  would 
possess  in  a  wild  state.  Dogs,  for  example,  in  those  coun- 
tries where  there  is  a  prejudice  against  receiving  them 
into  man's  association,  herd  together,  and  become  wild  and 
fierce  like  wolves.  This  is  the  case  in  many  Oriental 
countries,  where  there  are  superstitious  ideas  about  dogs  ; 
as,  for  instance,  that  they  are  unclean  and  impure.  But  in 
other  countries,  the  dog,  for  the  most  part,  forsakes  all 
other  dogs  to  become  the  associate  of  man.  A  dog  with- 
out a  master  is  a  forlorn  creature ;  no  society  of  other 
dogs  seems  to  console  him ;  he  wanders  about  disconsolate, 
till  he  finds  some  human  being  to  whom  to  attach  himself, 
and  then  he  is  a  made  dog,  —  he  pads  about  with  an  air 
of  dignity,  like  a  dog  that  is  settled  in  life. 

There  are  among  dogs  certain  races  or  large  divisions, 
and  those  belonging  purely  to  any  of  those  races  are  called 
blood-dogs.  As  examples  of  what  we  mean  by  these  races, 
we  will  mention  the  spaniel,  the  mastiff,  the  bulldog,  the 
hound,  and  the  terrier ;  and  each  of  these  divisions  contains 


DOGS   AND    CATS.  143 

many  species,  and  each  has  a  strongly  marked  character. 
The  spaniel  tribes  are  gentle,  docile,  easily  attached  to  man ; 
from  them  many  hunting  dogs  are  trained.  The  bulldog 
is  irritable,  a  terrible  fighter,  and  fiercely  faithful  to  his 
master.  A  mastiff  is  strong,  large,  not  so  fierce  as  the 
bulldog,  but  watchful  and  courageous,  with  a  peculiar  sense 
of  responsibility  in  guarding  anything  which  is  placed  under 
his  charge.  The  hounds  are  slender,  lean,  wiry,  with  a 
long,  pointed  muzzle,  and  a  peculiar  sensibility  in  the  sense 
of  smell,  and  their  instincts  lead  them  to  hunting  and 
tracking.  As  a  general  thing,  they  are  cowardly  and  in- 
disposed to  combat;  there  are,  however,  remarkable  excep- 
tions, as  you  will  see  if  you  read  the  account  of  the 
good  black  hound  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  tells  about  in 
"The  Talisman,"  —  a  story  which  I  advise  you  to  read  at 
your  next  leisure.  The  terriers  are,  for  the  most  part, 
small  dogs,  smart,  bright,  and  active,  very  intelligent,  and 
capable  of  being  taught  many  tricks.  Of  these  there  are 
several  varieties,  —  as  the  English  black  and  tan,  which  is 
the  neatest  and  prettiest  pet  a  family  of  children  can  have, 
as  his  hair  is  so  short  and  close  that  he  can  harbor  no 
fleas,  and  he  is  always  good-tempered,  lively,  and  affection- 
ate. The  Skye  terrier,  with  his  mouse-colored  mop  of  hair, 
and  his  great  bright  eyes,  is  very  loving  and  very  saga- 
cious ;  but  alas !  unless  you  can  afford  a  great  deal  of  time 
for  soap,  water,  and  fine-tooth-comb  exercises,  he  will  bring 


144  DOGS   AND    CATS. 

more  company  than  you  will  like.  The  Scotch  terriers 
are  rough,  scraggy,  affectionate,  but  so  nervous,  frisky,  and 
mischievous  that  they  are  only  to  be  recommended  as  out- 
door pets  in  barn  and  stable.  They  are  capital  rat-catchers, 
very  amicable  with  horses,  and  will  sit  up  by  the  driver  or 
a  coach-boy  with  an  air  of  great  sagacity. 

There  is  something  very  curious  about  the  habits  and 
instincts  of  certain  dogs  which  have  been  trained  by  man 
for  his  own  purposes.  In  the  mountains  of  Scotland,  there 
are  a  tribe  of  dogs  called  Shepherd-dogs,  which  for  gener- 
ations and  ages  have  helped  the  shepherds  to  take  care  of 
their  sheep,  and  which  look  for  all  the  world  like  long- 
nosed,  high-cheek-boned,  careful  old  Scotchmen.  You  will 
see  them  in  the  morning,  trotting  out  their  flock  of  sheep 
walking  about  with  a  grave,  care-taking  air,  and  at  evening 
all  bustle  and  importance,  hurrying  and  scurrying  hither 
and  thither,  getting  their  charge  all  together  for  the  night. 
An  old  Scotchman  tells  us  that  his  dog  Hector,  by  long 
sharing  his  toils  and  cares,  got  to  looking  so  much  like 
him,  that  once,  when  he  felt  too  sleepy  to  go  to  meeting 
he  sent  Hector  to  take  his  seat  in  the  pew,  and  the  min- 
ister never  knew  the  difference,  but  complimented  him  the 
next  day  for  his  good  attention  to  the  sermon. 

There  is  a  kind  of  dog  employed  by  the  monks  of  St. 
Bernard,  in  the  Alps,  to  go  out  and  seek  in  the  snow  foi 
travellers  who  may  have  lost  their  way ;  and  this  habit 


DOGS   AND    CATS.  145 

becomes  such  a  strong  instinct  in  them,  that  I  once  knew 
a  puppy  of  this  species  which  was  brought  by  a  shipmaster 
to  Maine,  and  grew  up  in  a  steady  New  England  town, 
which  used  to  alarm  his  kind  friends  by  rushing  off  into 
the  pine  forest  in  snow-storms,  and  running  anxiously  up 
and  down  burrowing  in  the  snow  as  if  in  quest  of  some- 
thing. 

I  have  seen  one  of  a  remarkable  breed  of  dogs  that  are 
brought  from  the  island  of  Manilla.  They  resemble  mastiffs 
in  their  form,  but  are  immensely  large  and  strong.  They 
are  trained  to  detect  thieves,  and  kept  by  merchants  on 
board  of  vessels  where  the  natives  are  very  sly  and  much 
given  to  stealing.  They  are  called  holders,  and  their  way 
is,  when  a  strange  man,  whose  purposes  they  do  not  under- 
stand, comes  on  board  the  ship,  to  take  a  very  gentle  but 
decisive  hold  of  him  by  the  heel,  and  keep  him  fast  until 
somebody  comes  to  look  after  him.  The  dog  I  knew  of 
this  species  stood  about  as  high  as  an  ordinary  dining-table, 
and  I  have  seen  him  stroke  off  the  dinner-cloth  with  one 
wag  of  his  tail  in  his  pleasure  when  I  patted  his  head. 
He  was  very  intelligent  and  affectionate. 

There  is  another  dog,  which  may  often  be  seen  in  Paris, 
called  the  Spitz  dog.  He  is  a  white,  smooth-haired,  small 
creature,  with  a  great  muff  of  stiff  hair  round  his  neck, 
and  generally  comes  into  Paris  riding  horseback  on  the 
cart-horses  which  draw  the  carts  of  the  washerwomen.  He 

10 


146  DOGS    AND    CATS. 

races  nimbly  up  and  down  on  the  back  of  the  great  heavy 
horses,  barking  from  right  to  left  with  great  animation,  and 
is  said  to  be  a  most  faithful  little  creature  in  guarding  the 
property  of  his  owner.  What  is  peculiar  about  these  little 
dogs  is  the  entireness  of  their  devotion  to  their  master. 
They  have  not  a  look,  not  a  wag  of  the  tail,  for  any  one 
else ;  it  is  vain  for  a  stranger  to  try  and  make  friends  with 
them,  —  they  have  eyes  and  ears  for  one  alone. 

All  dogs  which  do  not  belong  to  some  of  the  great  vari- 
eties, on  the  one  side  of  their  parentage  or  the  other,  are 
classed  together  as  curs,  and  very  much  undervalued  and 
decried ;  and  yet  among  these  mongrel  curs  we  have  seen 
individuals  quite  as  sagacious,  intelligent,  and  affectionate 
as  the  best  blood-dogs. 

And  now  I  want  to  say  some  things  to  those  young 
people  who  desire  to  adopt  as  domestic  pets  either  a  dog 
or  a  cat.  Don't  do  it  without  making  up  your  mind  to  be 
really  and  thoroughly  kind  to  them,  and  feeding  them  as 
carefully  as  you  feed  yourself,  and  giving  them  appropriate 
shelter  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather. 

Some  people  seem  to  have  a  general  idea  that  throwing 
a  scrap,  or  bone,  or  bit  of  refuse  meat,  at  odd  intervals, 
to  a  dog,  is  taking  abundant  care  of  him.  "  What 's  the 
matter  with  him  ?  he  can't  be  hungry,  —  I  gave  him  that 
great  bone  yesterday."  Ah,  Master  Hopeful,  how  would 
you  like  to  be  fed  on  the  same  principle  ?  When  you  show 


DOGS   AND    CATS.  147 

your  hungry  face  at  the  dinner-table,  suppose  papa  should 
say,  "  What  *s  that  boy  here  for  ?  He  was  fed  this  morn- 
ing." You  would  think  this  hard  measure ;  yet  a  dog's  or 
cat's  stomach  digests  as  rapidly  as  yours.  In  like  manner, 
dogs  are  often  shut  out  of  the  house  in  cold  winter  weather, 
without  the  least  protection  being  furnished  them.  A  lady 
and  I  looked  out  once,  in  a  freezing  icy  day,  and  saw  a 
great  Newfoundland  cowering  in  a  corner  of  a  fence  to 
keep  from  the  driving  wind ;  and  I  said,  "  Do  tell  me  if 
you  have  no  kennel  for  that  poor  creature."  "No,"  said 
the  lady.  "  I  did  n't  know  that  dogs  needed  shelter.  Now 
I  think  of  it,  I  remember  last  spring  he  seemed  quite 
poorly,  and  his  hair  seemed  to  come  out ;  do  you  suppose 
it  was  being  exposed  so  much  in  the  winter?"  This  Jady 
had  taken  into  her  family  a  living  creature,  .without  ever 
having  reflected  on  what  that  creature  needed,  or  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  provide  for  its  wants. 

Dogs  can  bear  more  cold  than  human  beings,  but  they 
do  not  like  cold  any  better  than  we  do ;  and  when  a  dog 
has  his  choice,  he  will  very  gladly  stretch  himself  on  a  rug 
before  the  fire  for  his  afternoon  nap,  and  show  that  he  en- 
joys the  blaze  and  warmth  as  much  as  anybody. 

As  to  cats,  many  people  seem  to  think  that  a  miserable, 
half-starved  beast,  never  fed,  and  always  hunted  and  beaten, 
and  with  no  rights  that  anybody  is  bound  to  respect,  is  a 
necessary  appendage  to  a  family.  They  have  the  idea  that 


148  DOGS    AND    CATS. 

all  a  cat  is  good  for  is  to  catch  rats,  and  that  if  well  fed 
they  will  not  do  this,  —  and  so  they  starve  them.  This  is 
a  mistake  in  fact.  Cats  are  hunting  animals,  and  have  the 
natural  instinct  to  pursue  and  catch  prey,  and  a  cat  that  is 
a  good  mouser  will  do  this  whether  well  or  ill  fed.  To  live 
only  upon  rats  is  said  to  injure  the  health  of  the  cat,  and 
bring  on  convulsions. 

The  most  beautiful  and  best  trained  cat  I  ever  knew  was 
named  Juno,  and  was  brought  up  by  a  lady  who  was  so 
wise  in  all  that  related  to  the  care  and  management  of 
animals,  that  she  might  be  quoted  as  authority  on  all 
points  of  their  nurture  and  breeding ;  and  Juno,  carefully 
trained  by  such  a  mistress,  was  a  standing  example  of  the 
virtyes  which  may  be  formed  in  a  cat  by  careful  education. 

Never  was  Juno  known  to  be  out  of  place,  to  take  her 
nap  elsewhere  than  on  her  own  appointed  cushion,  to  be 
absent  at  meal-times,  or,  when  the  most  tempting  dainties 
were  in  her  power,  to  anticipate  the  proper  time  by  jump- 
ing on  the  table  to  help  herself. 

In  all  her  personal  habits  Juno  was  of  a  neatness  unpar- 
alleled in  cat  history.  The  parlor  of  her  mistress  was 
always  of  a  waxen  and  spotless  cleanness,  and  Juno  would 
have  died  sooner  than  violate  its  sanctity  by  any  impro- 
priety. She  was  a  skilful  mouser,  and  her  sleek,  glossy 
sides  were  a  sufficient  refutation  of  the  absurd  notion  that 
a  cat  must  be  starved  into  a  display  of  her  accomplish- 


DOGS   AND    CATS.  149 

ments.  Every  rat,  mouse,  or  ground  mole  that  she  caught 
was  brought  in  and  laid  at  the  feet  of  her  mistress  for 
approbation.  But  on  one  point  her  mind  was  dark.  She 
could  never  be  made  to  comprehend  the  great  difference 
between  fur  and  feathers,  nor  see  why  her  mistress  should 
gravely  reprove  her  when  she  brought  in  a  bird,  and 
warmly  commend  when  she  captured  a  mouse. 

After  a  while  a  little  dog  named  Pero,  with  whom  Juno 
had  struck  up  a  friendship,  got  into  the  habit  of  coming  to 
her  mistress's  apartment  at  the  hours  when  her  modest 
meals  were  served,  on  which  occasions  Pero  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  idea  to  invite  himself  to  make  a  third. 
He  had  a  nice  little  trick  of  making  himself  amiable,  by 
sitting  up  on  his  haunches,  and  making  little  begging  ges- 
tures with  his  two  fore-paws,  —  which  so  much  pleased  his 
hostess  that  sometimes  he  was  fed  before  Juno.  Juno  ob- 
served this  in  silence  for  some  time  ;  but  at  last  a  bright 
idea  struck  her,  and,  gravely  rearing  up  on  her  haunches, 
she  imitated  Pero's  gestures  with  her  fore-paws.  Of  course 
this  carried  the  day,  and  secured  her  position. 

Cats  are  often  said  to  have  no  heart,  —  to  be  attached 
to  places,  but  incapable  of  warm  personal  affection.  It  was 
reserved  for  Juno  by  her  sad  end  to  refute  this  slander  on 
her  race.  Her  mistress  was  obliged  to  leave  her  quiet  home, 
and  go  to  live  in  a  neighboring  city ;  so  she  gave  Juno  to 
the  good  lady  who  inhabited  the  other  part  of  the  house. 


ISO  DOGS    AND    CATS. 

But  no  attentions  or  care  on  the  part  of  her  new  mis- 
tress could  banish  from  Juno's  mind  the  friend  she  had  lost. 
The  neat  little  parlor  where  she  had  spent  so  many  pleasant 
hours  was  dismantled  and  locked  up,  but  Juno  would  go, 
day  after  day,  and  sit  on  the  ledge  of  the  window-seat, 
looking  in  and  mewing  dolefully.  She  refused  food ;  and, 
when  too  weak  to  mount  on  the  sill  and  look  in,  stretched 
herself  on  the  ground  beneath  the  window,  where  she  died 
for  love  of  her  mistress,  as  truly  as  any  lover  in  an  old 
ballad. 

You  see  by  this  story  the  moral  that  I  wish  to  convey. 
It  is,  that  watchfulness,  kindness,  and  care  will  develop  a 
nature  in  animals  such'  as  we  little  dream  of.  Love  will 
beget  love,  regular  care  and  attention  will  give  regular 
habits,  and  thus  domestic  pets  may  be  made  agreeable  and 
interesting. 

Any  one  who  does  not  feel  an  inclination  or  capacity  to 
take  the  amount  of  care  knd  pains  necessary  for  the  well- 
being  of  an  animal  ought  conscientiously  to  abstain  from 
having  one  in  charge.  A  carefully  tended  pet,  whether  dog 
or  cat,  is  a  pleasant  addition  to  a  family  of  young  people ; 
but  a  neglected,  ill-b rough t-up,  ill-kept  one  is  only  an  an- 
noyance. 

We  should  remember,  too,  in  all  our  dealings  with  ani- 
mals, that  they  are  a  sacred  trust  to  us  from  our  Heavenly 
Father.  They  are  dumb,  and  cannot  speak  for  themselves ; 


DOGS   AND   CATS.  !$! 

they  cannot  explain  their  wants  or  justify  their  conduct ; 
and  therefore  we  should  be  tender  towards  them. 

Our  Lord  says  not  even  a  little  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground 
without  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  we  may  believe  that  his 
eye  takes  heed  of  the  disposition  which  we  show  towards 
those  defenceless  beings  whom  he  thinks  worthy  of  his  pro- 
tection. 


AUNT  ESTHER'S    RULES. 

T  N  the  last  number  I  told  my  little  friends  about  my 
•*•  good  Aunt  Esther,  and  her  wonderful  cat  Juno,  and 
her  dog  Pero.  In  thinking  what  to  write  for  this  month, 
my  mind  goes  far  back  to  the  days  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,  and  use.d  to  spend  many  happy  hours  in  Aunt  Es- 
ther's parlor  talking  with  her.  Her  favorite  subject  was 
always  the  habits  and  character  of  different  animals,  and 
their  various  ways  and  instincts,  and  she  used  to  tell  us 
so  many  wonderful,  yet  perfectly  authentic,  stories  about  all 
these  things,  that  the  hours  passed  away  very  quickly. 

Some  of  her  rules  for  the  treatment  and  care  of  animals 
have  impressed  themselves  so  distinctly  on  my  mind,  that 
I  shall  never  forget  them,  and  I  am  going  to  repeat  some 
of  them  to  you. 

One  was,  never  to  frighten  an  animal  for  sport.  I  recol- 
lect I  had  a  little  white  kitten,  of  which  I  was  very  fond, 
and  one  day  I  was  amusing  myself  with  making  her  walk 
up  and  down  the  key-board  of  the  piano,  and  laughing  to 
see  her  fright  at  the  strange  noises  which  came  up  under 
her  feet.  Puss  evidently  thought  the  place  was  haunted, 
and  tried  to  escape ;  it  never  occurred  to  me,  however, 
that  there  was  any  cruelty  in  the  operation,  till  Aunt  Es- 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES.  153 

ther  said  to  me,  *'  My  dear,  you  must  never  frighten  an 
animal.  I  have  suffered  enough  from  fear  to  know  that 
there  is  no  suffering  more  dreadful ;  and  a  helpless  animal, 
that  cannot  speak  to  tell  its  fright,  and  cannot  understand 
an  explanation  of  what  alarms  it,  ought  to  move  your 
pity." 

I  had  never  thought  of  this  before,  and  then  I  remem- 
bered how,  when  I  was  a  very,  very  little  girl,  a  grown-up 
boy  in  school  had  amused  himself  with  me  and  my  little 
brother  in  much  the  same  way  as  that  in  which  I  had 
amused  myself  with  the  kitten.  He  hunted  us  under  one 
of  the  school-room  tables  by  threatening  to  cut  our  ears 
off  if  we  came  out,  and  took  out  his  pen-knife,  and  opened 
it,  and  shook  it  at  us  whenever  we  offered  to  move.  Very 
likely  he  had  not  the  least  idea  that  we  really  could  be 
made  to  suffer  with  fear  at  so  absurd  a  threat,  —  any 
more  than  I  had  that  my  kitten  could  possibly  be  afraid 
of  the  piano ;  but  our  suffering  was  in  fact  as  real  as  if 
the  boy  really  had  intended  what  he  said,  and  was  really 
able  to  execute  it. 

Another  thing  which  Aunt  Esther  strongly  impressed  on 
my  mind  was,  that,  when  there  were  domestic  animals 
about  a  house  which  were  not  wanted  in  a  family,  it  was 
far  kinder  to  have  them  killed  in  some  quick  and  certain 
way  than  to  chase  them  out  of  the  house,  and  leave  them 
to  wander  homeless,  to  be  starved,  beaten,  and  abused. 


154  AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES. 

Aunt  Esther  was  a  great  advocate  for  killing  animals,  and, 
tender-hearted  as  she  was,  she  gave  us  many  instructions 
in  the  kindest  and  quickest  way  of  disposing  of  one  whose 
life  must  be  sacrificed. 

Her  instructions  sometimes  bore  most  remarkable  fruits. 
I  recollect  one  little  girl,  who  had  been  trained  under  Aunt 
Esther's  care,  was  once  coming  home  from  school  across 
Boston  Common,  when  she  saw  a  party  of  noisy  boys  and 
dogs  tormenting  a  poor  kitten  by  the  side  of  the  frog  pond. 
The  little  wretches  would  throw  it  into  the  water,  and  then 
laugh  at  its  vain  and  frightened  efforts  to  paddle  out,  while 
the  dogs  added  to  its  fright  by  their  ferocious  barking. 
Belle  was  a  bright-eyed,  spirited  little  puss,  and  her  whole 
soul  was  roused  in  indignation  ;  she  dashed  in  among  the 
throng  of  boys  and  dogs,  and  rescued  the  poor  half-drowned 
little  animal.  The  boys,  ashamed,  slunk  away,  and  little 
Belle  held  the  poor,  cold,  shivering  little  creature,  consider- 
ing what  to  do  for  it.  It  was  half  dead  already,  and  she 
was  embarrassed  by  the  reflection  that  at  home  there  was 
no  room  for  another  pet,  for  both  cat  and  kitten  never 
were  wanting  in  their  family.  "Poor  kit,"  she  said,  "you 
must  die,  but  I  will  see  that  you  are  not  tormented "  ;  — 
and  she  knelt  bravely  down  and  held  the  little  thing  under 
water,  with  the  tears  running  down  her  own  cheeks,  till  all 
its  earthly  sorrows  were  over,  and  little  kit  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  dog  or  boy. 


AUNT   ESTHERS   RULES.  1 55 

This  was  real  brave  humanity.  Many  people  call  them- 
selves tender-hearted,  because  they  are  unwilling  to  have  a 
litter  of  kittens  killed,  and  so  they  go  and  throw  them 
over  fences,  into  people's  back  yards,  and  comfort  them- 
selves with  the  reflection  that  they  will  do  well  enough. 
What  becomes  of  the  poor  little  defenceless  things?  In 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  live  a  hunted,  miserable  life, 
crying  from  hunger,  shivering  with  cold,  harassed  by  cruel 
dogs,  and  tortured  to  make  sport  for  brutal  boys.  How 
much  kinder  and  more  really  humane  to  take  upon  our- 
selves the  momentary  suffering  of  causing  the  death  of  an 
animal  than  to  turn  our  back  and  leave  it  to  drag  out 
a  life  of  torture  and  misery ! 

Aunt  Esther  used  to  protest  much  against  another  kind 
of  torture  which  well-meaning  persons  inflict  on  animals,  in 
giving  them  as  playthings  to  very  little  children  who  do 
not  know  how  to  handle  them.  A  mother  sometimes  will 
sit  quietly  sewing,  while  her  baby  boy  is  tormenting  a  help- 
less kitten,  poking  his  fingers  into  its  eyes,  pulling  its  tail, 
stretching  it  out  as  on  a  rack,  squeezing  its  feet,  and,  when 
the  poor  little  tormented  thing  tries  to  run  away,  will  send 
the  nurse  to  catch  dear  little  Johnny's  kitten  for  him. 

Aunt  Esther  always  remonstrated,  too,  against  all  the 
practical  jokes  and  teasing  of  animals,  which  many  people 
practise  under  the  name  of  sport,  —  like  throwing  a  dog 
into  the  water  for  the  sake  of  seeing  him  paddle  out,  dash- 


156  AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES. 

ing  water  upon  the  cat,  or  doing  any  of  the  many  little 
tricks  by  which  animals  are  made  uncomfortable.  "They 
have  but  one  short  little  life  to  live,  they  are  dumb  and 
cannot  complain,  and  they  are  wholly  in  our  power,"  — 
these  were  the  motives  by  which  she  appealed  to  our  gen- 
erosity. 

Aunt  Esther's  boys  were  so  well  trained,  that  they  would 
fight  valiantly  for  the  rescue  of  any  ill-treated  animals. 
Little  Master  Bill  was  a  bright-eyed  fellow,  who  was  n't 
much  taller  than  his  father's  knee,  and  wore  a  low-necked 
dress  with  white  ruffles.  But  Bill  had  a  brave  heart  in  his 
little  body,  and  so  one  day,  as  he  was  coming  from  school, 
he  dashed  in  among  a  crowd  of  dogs  which  were  pursuing 
a  kitten,  took  it  away  from  them,  and  held  it  as  high  above 
his  head  as  his  little  arm  could  reach.  The  dogs  jumped 
upon  his  white  neck  with  their  rough  paws,  and  scratched 
his  face,  but  still  he  stood  steady  till  a  man  came  up  and 
took  the  kitten  and  frightened  away  the  dogs.  Master  Bill 
grew  up  to  be  a  man,  and  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  stood 
a  three  days'  fight,  and  resisted  the  charge  of  the  Louisiana 
Tigers  as  of  old  he  withstood  the  charge  of  the  dogs.  A 
really  brave-hearted  fellow  is  generally  tender  and  compas- 
sionate to  the  weak ;  only  cowards  torment  that  which  is 
not  strong  enough  to  fight  them  ;  only  cowards  starve  help- 
less prisoners  or  torture  helpless  animals. 

I  can't  help  hoping  that,  in  these  stories  about  different 


AUNT   ESTHERS    RULES. 


157 


pets,  I  have  made  some  friends  among  the  boys,  and  that 
they  will  remember  what  I  have  said,  and  resolve  always 
to  defend  the  weak,  and  not  permit  any  cruelty  where  it 
is  in  their  power  to  prevent  it.  Boys,  you  are  strong  and 
brave  little  fellows ;  but  you  ought  n't  to  be  strong  and 
brave  for  nothing ;  and  if  every  boy  about  the  street  would 
set  himself  to  defending  helpless  animals,  we  should  see 
much  less  cruelty  than  we  now  do. 


AUNT    ESTHER'S    STORIES. 

A  UNT  ESTHER  used  to  be  a  constant  attendant  upon 
•*"  *•  us  young  ones  whenever  we  were  a  little  ill,  or  any 
of  the  numerous  accidents  of  childhood  overtook  us.  In 
such  seasons  of  adversity  she  always  came  to  sit  by  our 
bedside,  and  take  care  of  us.  She  did  not,  as  some  people 
do,  bring  a  long  face  and  a  doleful  whining  voice  into  a 
sick-room,  but  was  always  so  bright,  and  cheerful,  and 
chatty,  that  we  began  to  think  it  was  almost  worth  while 
to  be  sick  to  have  her  about  us.  I  remember  that  once, 
when  I  had  the  quinsy,  and  my  throat  was  so  swollen  that 
it  brought  the  tears  every  time  I  swallowed,  Aunt  Esther 
talked  to  me  so  gayly,  and  told  me  so  many  stories,  that  I 
found  myself  laughing  heartily,  and  disposed  to  regard  my 
aching  throat  as  on  the  whole  rather  an  amusing  circum- 
stance. 

Aunt  Esther's  stories  were  not  generally  fairy  tales,  but 
stories  about  real  things,  —  and  more  often  on  her  favorite 
subject  of  the  habits  of  animals,  and  the  different  animals 
she  had  known,  than  about  anything  else. 

One  of  these  was  a  famous  Newfoundland  dog,  named 
Prince,  which  belonged  to  an  uncle  of  hers  in  the  country, 
and  was,  as  we  thought,  a  far  more  useful  and  faithful 


AUNT   ESTHERS   STORIES.  159 

member  of  society  than  many  of  us  youngsters.  Prince 
used  to  be  a  grave,  sedate  dog,  that  considered  himself  put 
in  trust  of  the  farm,  the  house,  the  cattle,  and  all  that  was 
on  the  place.  At  night  he  slept  before  the  kitchen  door, 
which,  like  all  other  doors  in  the  house  in  those  innocent 
days,  was  left  unlocked  all  night ;  and  if  such  a  thing  had 
ever  happened  as  that  a  tramper  or  an  improper  person  of 
any  kind  had  even  touched  the  latch  of  the  door,  Prince 
would  have  been  up  attending  to  him  as  master  of  cere- 
monies. 

At  early  dawn,  when  the  family  began  to  stir,  Prince 
was  up  and  out  to  superintend  the  milking  of  the  cows, 
after  which  he  gathered  them  all  together,  and  started  out 
with  them  to  pasture,  padding  steadily  along  behind,  dash- 
ing out  once  in  a  while  to  reclaim  some  wanderer  that 
thoughtlessly  began  to  make  her  breakfast  by  the  roadside, 
instead  of  saving  her  appetite  for  the  pastures,  as  a  prop- 
erly behaved  cow  should.  Arrived  at  the  pasture-lot, 
Prince  would  take  down  the  bars  with  his  teeth,  drive  in 
the  cows,  put  up  bars,  and  then  soberly  turn  tail  and  pad 
off  home,  and  carry  the  dinner-basket  for  the  men  to  the 
mowing  lot,  or  the  potato-field,  or  wherever  the  labors  of 
the  day  might  be.  There  arrived,  he  was  extremely  useful 
to  send  on  errands  after  anything  forgotten  or  missing. 
"  Prince !  the  rake  is  missing :  go  to  the  barn  and  fetch 
it ! "  and  away  Prince  would  go,  and  come  back  with  his 


160  AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES. 

head  very  high,  and  the  long  rake  very  judiciously  bal- 
anced in  his  mouth. 

One  day  a  friend  was  wondering  at  the  sagacity  of  the 
dog,  and  his  master  thought  he  would  show  off  his  tricks 
in  a  still  more  original  style ;  and  so,  calling  Prince  to 
him,  he  said,  "  Go  home  and  bring  Puss  to  me ! " 

Away  bounded  Prince  towards  the  farm-house,  and,  look- 
ing about,  found  the  younger  of  the  two  cats,  fair  Mistress 
Daisy,  busy  cleaning  her  white  velvet  in  the  summer  sun. 
Prince  took  her  gently  up  by  the  nape  of  her  neck,  and 
carried  her,  hanging  head  and  heels  together,  to  the  fields, 
and  laid  her  down  at  his  master's  feet. 

"  How  's  this,  Prince  ? "  said  the  master ;  "  you  did  n't 
understand  me.  I  said  the  cat,  and  this  is  the  kitten. 
Go  right  back  and  bring  the  old  cat." 

Prince  looked  very  much  ashamed  of  his  mistake,  and 
turned  away,  With  drooping  ears  and  tail,  and  went  back 
to  the  house. 

The  old  cat  was  a  venerable,  somewhat  portly  old  dame, 
and  no  small  lift  for  Prince ;  but  he  reappeared  with  old 
Puss  hanging  from  his  jaws,  and  set  her  down,  a  little  dis- 
composed, but  not  a  whit  hurt  by  her  unexpected  ride. 

Sometimes,  to  try  Prince's  skill,  his  master  would  hide 
his  gloves  or  riding-whip  in  some  out-of-the-way  corner, 
and  when  ready  to  start,  would  say,  "Now,  where  have  I 
left  my  gloves  ?  Prince,  good  fellow,  run  in,  and  find 


AUNT   ESTHERS    STORIES. 


161 


them";  and  Prince  would  dash  into  the  house,  and  run 
hither  and  thither  with  his  nose  to  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  room  ;  and,  no  matter  how  artfully  they  were  hid, 
he  would  upset  and  tear  his  way  to  them.  He  would  turn 
up  the  corners  of  the  carpet,  snuff  about  the  bed,  run  his 
nose  between  the  feather-bed  and  mattress,  pry  into  the 
crack  of  a  half-opened  drawer,  and  show  as  much  zeal  and 
ingenuity  as  a  policeman,  and  seldom  could  anything  be  so 
hid  as  to  baffle  his  perseverance. 

Many   people    laugh    at   the   idea   of  being  careful  of  a 


ii 


1 62  AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES. 

dog's  feelings,  as  if  it  were  the  height  of  absurdity ;  and  yet 
it  is  a  fact  that  some  dogs  are  as  exquisitely  sensitive  to 
pain,  shame,  and  mortification,  as  any  human  being.  See, 
when  a  dog  is  spoken  harshly  to,  what  a  universal  droop 
seems  to  come  over  him.  His  head  and  ears  sink,  his  tail 
drops  and  slinks  between  his  legs,  and  his  whole  air  seems  to 
say,  "I  wish  I  could  sink  into  the  earth  to  hide  myself." 

Prince's  young  master,  without  knowing  it,  was  the  means 
of  inflicting  a  most  terrible  mortification  on  him  at  one 
time.  It  was  very  hot  weather,  and  Prince,  being  a  shaggy 
dog,  lay  panting,  and  lolling  his  tongue  out,  apparently  suf- 
fering from  the  heat. 

"I  declare,"  said  young  Master  George,  "I  do  believe 
Prince  would  be  more  comfortable  for  being  sheared."  And 
so  forthwith  he  took  him  and  began  divesting  him  of  his 
coat.  Prince  took  it  all  very  obediently  ;  but  when  he  ap- 
peared without  his  usual  attire,  every  one  saluted  him  with 
roars  of  laughter,  and  Prince  was  dreadfully  mortified.  He 
broke  away  from  his  master,  and  scampered  off  home  at  a 
desperate  pace,  ran  down  cellar  and  disappeared  from  view. 
His  young  master  was  quite  distressed  that  Prince  took 
the  matter  so  to  heart ;  he  followed  him  in  vain,  calling, 
"  Prince  !  Prince  ! "  No  Prince  appeared.  He  lighted  a 
candle  and  searched  the  cellar,  and  found  the  poor  crea- 
ture cowering  away  in  the  darkest  nook  under  the  stairs. 
Prince  was  not  to  be  comforted ;  he  slunk  deeper  and 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES.  163 

deeper  into  the  darkness,  and  crouched  on  the  ground 
when  he  saw  his  master,  and  for  a  long  time  refused  even 
to  take  food.  The  family  all  visited  and  condoled  with  him, 
and  finally  his  sorrows  were  somewhat  abated ;  but  he 
would  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  cellar  for  nearly  a 
week.  Perhaps  by  that  time  he  indulged  the  hope  that 
his  hair  was  beginning  to  grow  again,  and  all  were  careful 
not  to  destroy  the  allusion  by  any  jests  or  comments  on 
his  appearance. 

Such  were  some  of  the  stories  of  Prince's  talents  and 
exploits  which  Aunt  Esther  used  to  relate  to  us.  What 
finally  became  of  the  old  fellow  we  never  heard.  Let  us 
hope  that,  as  he  grew  old,  and  gradually  lost  his  strength, 
and  felt  the  infirmities  of  age  creeping  on,  he  was  tenderly 
and  kindly  cared  for  in  memory  of  the  services  of  his  best 
days,  —  that  he  had  a  warm  corner  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  was  daily  spoken  to  in  kindly  tones  by  his  old  friends. 
Nothing  is  a  sadder  sight  than  to  see  a  poor  old  favorite, 
that  once  was  petted  and  caressed  by  every  member  of 
the  family,  now  sneaking  and  cowering  as  if  dreading 
every  moment  a  kick  or  a  blow,  —  turned  from  the  parlor 
into  the  kitchen,  driven  from  the  kitchen  by  the  cook's 
broomstick,  half  starved  and  lonesome. 

O,  how  much  kinder  if  the  poor  thread  of  life  were  at 
once  cut  by  some  pistol-shot,  than  to  have  the  neglected 
favorite  linger  only  to  suffer !  Now,  boys,  I  put  it  to  you, 


164  AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES. 

is  it  generous  or  manly,  when  your  old  pet  and  playmate 
grows  sickly  and  feeble,  and  can  no  longer  amuse  you,  to 
forget  all  the  good  old  times  you  have  had  with  him,  and 
let  him  become  a  poor,  trembling,  hungry,  abused  vagrant? 
If  you  cannot  provide  comforts  for  his  old  age,  and  see  to 
his  nursing,  you  can  at  least  secure  him  an  easy  and  pain- 
less passage  from  this  troublesome  world.  A  manly  fellow 
I  once  knew,  who,  when  his  old  hound  became  so  diseased 
that  he  only  lived  to  suffer,  gave  him  a  nice  meal  with  his 
own  hand,  patted  .his  head,  got  him  to  sleep,  and  then 
shot  him,  —  so  that  he  was  dead  in  a  moment,  felt  no 
pain,  and  knew  nothing  but  kindness  to  the  last. 

And  now  to  Aunt  Esther's  stories  of  a  dog  I  must  add 
one  more  which  occurred  in  a  town  where  I  once  lived.  I 
have  told  you  of  the  fine  traits  of  blood-dogs,  their  sagacity 
and  affection.  In  doing  this,  perhaps,  I  have  not  done  half 
justice  to  the  poor  common  dogs,  of  no  particular  blood  or 
breed,  that  are  called  curs  or  mongrels ;  yet  among  these 
I  believe  you  will  quite  as  often  find  both  affection  and 
sagacity  as  among  better-born  dogs. 

The  poor  mongrel  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  belonged 
to  a  man  who  had  not,  in  one  respect,  half  the  sense  that 
his  dog  had.  A  dog  will  never  eat  or  drink  a  thing  that 
has  once  made  him  sick,  or  injured  him ;  but  this  man 
would  drink,  time  and  time  again,  a  deadly  draught,  that 
took  away  his  senses  and  unfitted  him  for  any  of  his  duties. 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES.  165 

Poor  little  Pero,  however,  set  her  ignorant  dog's  heart  on 
her  drinking  master,  and  used  to  patter  faithfully  after  him, 
and  lick  his  hand  respectfully,  when  nobody  else  thought 
he  was  in  a  condition  to  be  treated  with  respect. 

One  bitter  cold  winter  day,  Pero's  master  went  to  a  gro- 
cery, at  some  distance  from  home,  on  pretence  of  getting 
groceries,  but  in  reality  to  fill  a  very  dreadful  bottle,  that 
was  the  cause  of  all  his  misery ;  and  little  Pero  padded 
after  him  through  the  whirling  snow,  although  she  left 
three  poor  little  pups  of  her  own  in  the  barn.  Was  it  that 
she  was  anxious  for  the  poor  man  who  was  going  the  bad 
road,  or  was  there  some  secret  thing  in  her  dog's  heart 
that  warned  her  that  her  master  was  in  danger  ?  We  know 
not,  but  the  sad  fact  is,  that  at  the  grocery  the  poor  man 
took  enough  to  make  his  brain  dizzy,  and  coming  home  he 
lost  his  way  in  a  whirling  snow-storm,  and  fell  down  stupid 
and  drunk,  not  far  from  his  own  barn,  in  a  lonesome  place, 
with  the  cold  winter's  wind  sweeping  the  snow-drift  over 
him.  Poor  little  Pero  cuddled  close  to  her  master  and 
nestled  in  his  bosom,  as  if  trying  to  keep  the  warm  life 
in  him. 

Two  or  three  days  passed,  and  nothing  was  seen  or 
heard  of  the  poor  man.  The  snow  had  drifted  over  him 
in  a  long  white  winding-sheet,  when  a  neighbor  one  day 
heard  a  dog  in  the  barn  crying  to  get  out.  It  was  poor 
Pero,  that  had  come  back  and  slipped  in  to  nurse  her 


1 66  AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES. 

puppies  while  the  barn-door  was  open,  and  was  now  crying 
lo  get  out  and  go  back  to  her  poor  master.  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  the  man  that  Pero  might  find  the  body,  and 
in  fact,  when  she  started  off,  he  saw  a  little  path  which 
her  small  paws  had  worn  in  the  snow,  and,  tracking  after, 
found  the  frozen  body.  This  poor  little  friend  had  nestled 
the  snow  away  around  the  breast,  and  stayed  watching 
and  waiting  by  her  dead  master,  only  taking  her  way 
back  occasionally  to  the  barn  to  nurse  her  little  ones.  I 
cannot  help  asking  whether  a  little  animal  that  can  show 
such  love  and  faithfulness  has  not  something  worth  respect- 
ing and  caring  for  in  its  nature. 

At  this  time  of  the  year  our  city  ordinances  proclaim 
a  general  leave  and  license  to  take  the  lives  of  all  dogs 
found  in  the  streets,  and  scenes  of  dreadful  cruelty  are 
often  enacted  in  consequence.  I  hope,  if  my  stories  fall 
under  the  eye  of  any  boy  who  may  ever  witness,  or  be 
tempted  to  take  part  in,  the  hunting  down  and  killing  a 
poor  dog,  that  he  will  remember  of  how  much  faithfulness 
and  affection  and  constancy  these  poor  brutes  are  capable, 
and,  instead  of  being  their  tyrant  and  persecutor,  will  try 
to  make  himself  their  protector  and  friend. 


SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  AND   HIS  DOGS. 

TV  TASTER  Frederick  Little-John  has  of  late  struck  up 
-L  » -*•  quite  a  friendship  with  me,  and  haunts  my  footsteps 
about  house  to  remind  me  of  my  promise  to  write  some 
more  dog  stories.  Master  Fred  has  just  received  a  present 
from  his  father  of  a  great  Newfoundland  that  stands  a 
good  deal  higher  in  his  stocking-feet  than  his  little  master 
in  his  highest-heeled  boots,  and  he  has  named  him  Prince, 
in  honor  of  the  Prince  that  I  told  you  about  last  month, 
that  used  to  drive  the  cows  to  pasture,  and  take  down 
the  bars  with  his  teeth.  We  have  daily  and  hourly  ac- 
counts in  the  family  circle  of  Prince's  sayings  and  doings  ; 
for  Master  Freddy  insists  upon  it  that  Prince  speaks, 
and  daily  insists  upon  placing  a  piece  of  bread  on  the  top 
of  Prince's  nose,  which  at  the  word  of  command  he  fires 
into  the  air,  and  catches  in  his  mouth,  closing  the  perform- 
ance with  a  snap  like  a  rifle.  Fred  also  makes  much  of 
showing  him  a  bit  of  meat  held  high  in  the  air,  from  which 
he  is  requested  to  "speak,"  —  the  speaking  consisting  in 
very  short  exclamations  of  the  deepest  bow-wow.  Certain 
it  is  that  Prince  shows  on  these  occasions  that  he  has  the 
voice  for  a  public  speaker,  and  that,  if  he  does  not  go 
about  the  country  lecturing,  it  is  because  he  wants  time 


1 68  SIR  WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS   DOGS. 

yet  to  make  up  his  mind  what  to  say  on  the  topics  of 
the  day. 

Fred  is  somewhat  puzzled  to  make  good  the  ground  of 
his  favorite  with  Aunt  Zeroiah,  who  does  not  love  dogs, 
and  is  constantly  casting  reflections  on  them  as  nuisan- 
ces, dirt-makers,  flea-catchers,  and  flea-scatterers,  and  in- 
sinuating a  plea  that  Prince  should  be  given  away,  or  in 
some  manner  sold  or  otherwise  disposed  of. 

"Aunt  Zeroiah  thinks  that  there  is  nothing  so  mean  as 
a  dog,"  said  Master  Fred  to  me  as  he  sat  with  his  arm 
around  the  neck  of  his  favorite.  "  She  really  seems  to 
grudge  every  morsel  of  meat  a  dog  eats,  and  to  think  that 
every  kindness  you  show  a  dog  is  almost  a  sin.  Now  I 
think  dogs  are  noble  creatures,  and  have  noble  feelings, 
—  they  are  so  faithful,  and  so  kind  and  loving.  Now  I 
do  wish  you  would  make  haste  and  write  something  to 
show  her  that  dogs  have  been  thought  a  good  deal  of." 

"Well,  Master  Freddy,"  said  I,  "  I  will  tell  you  in  the 
first  place  about  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose  poems  and 
novels  have  been  the  delight  of  whole  generations." 

He  was  just  of  your  opinion  about  dogs,  and  he  had 
a  great  many  of  them.  When  Washington  Irving  visited 
Sir  Walter  at  Abbotsford,  he  found  him  surrounded  by 
his  dogs,  which  formed  as  much  a  part  of  the  family  as 
his  children. 

In   the   morning,   when    they   started    for   a   ramble,   the 


SIR   WALTER    SCOTT   AND    HIS    DOGS. 


169 


dogs  would  all  be  on  the  alert  to  join  them.  There  was 
first  a  tall  old  staghound  named  Maida,  that  considered 
himself  the  confidential  friend  of  his  master,  walked  by 
his  side,  and  looked  into  his  eyes  as  if  asserting  a  part- 
nership in  his  thoughts.  Then  there  was  a  black  grey- 
hound named  Hamlet,  a  more  frisky  and  thoughtless  youth, 
that  gambolled  and  pranced  and  barked  and  cut  capers 
with  the  wildest  glee  ;  and  there  was  a  beautiful  setter 


I/O  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS    DOGS. 

named  Finette,  with  large  mild  eyes,  soft  silken  hair,  and 
long  curly  ears,  —  the  favorite  of  the  parlor  ;  and  then  a 
venerable  old  greyhound,  wagging  his  tail,  came  out  to 
join  the  party  as  he  saw  them  going  by  his  quarters,  and 
was  cheered  by  Scott  with  a  hearty,  kind  word  as  an  old 
friend  and  comrade. 

In  his  walks  Scott  would  often  stop  and  talk  to  one  or 
another  of  his  four-footed  friends,  as  if  they  were  in  fact 
rational  companions ;  and,  from  being  talked  to  and  treated 
in  this  way,  they  really  seemed  to  acquire  more  sagacity 
than  other  dogs. 

Old  Maida  seemed  to  consider  himself  as  a  sort  of  pres- 
ident of  the  younger  dogs,  as  a  dog  of  years  and  reflection, 
whose  mind  was  upon  more  serious  and  weighty  topics 
than  theirs.  As  he  padded  along,  the  younger  dogs  would 
sometimes  try  to  ensnare  him  into  a  frolic,  by  jumping 
upon  his  neck  and  making  a  snap  at  his  ears.  Old  Maida 
would  bear  this  in  silent  dignity  for  a  while,  and  then 
suddenly,  as  if  his  patience  were  exhausted,  he  would  catch 
one  of  his  tormentors  by  the  neck  and  tumble  him  in  the 
dirt,  giving  an  apologetic  look  to  his  master  at  the  same 
time,  as  much  as  to  say,  "You  see,  sir,  I  can't  help  join- 
ing a  little  in  this  nonsense." 

"  Ah,"  said  Scott,  "  I  Ve  no  doubt  that,  when  Maida  is 
alone  with  these  young  dogs,  he  throws  dignity  aside  and 
plays  the  boy  as  much  as  any  of  them,  but  he  is  ashamed 


SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS   DOGS.  I /I 

to  do  it  in  our  company,  and  seems  to  say,  '  Have  done 
with  your  nonsense,  youngsters  ;  what  will  the  Laird  and 
that  other  gentleman  think  of  me  if  I  give  way  to  such 
foolery  ? ' ' 

At  length  the  younger  dogs  fancied  that  they  discovered 
something,  which  set  them  all  into  a  furious  barking.  Old 
Maida  for  some  time  walked  silently  by  his  master,  pre- 
tending not  to  notice  the  clamors  of  the  inferior  dogs.  At 
last,  however,  he  seemed  to  feel  himself  called  on  to  attend 
to  them,  and  giving  a  plunge  forward  he  opened  his  mind 
to  them  with  a  deep  "Bow-wow,"  that  drowned  for  the 
time  all  other  noises.  Then,  as  if  he  had  settled  matters, 
he  returned  to  his  master,  wagging  his  tail,  and  looking 
in  his  face  as  if  for  approval. 

"  Ay,  ay,  old  boy,"  said  Scott ;  "  you  have  done  won- 
ders ;  you  have  shaken  the  Eildon  Hills  with  your  roaring, 
and  now  you  may  shut  up  your  artillery  for  the  rest  of 
the  day.  Maida,"  he  said,  "is  like  the  big  gun  of  Con- 
stantinople,—  it  takes  so  long  to  get  it  ready  that  the 
small  ones  can  fire  off  a  dozen  times,  but  when  it  does 
go  off  it  carries  all  before  it." 

Scott's  four-footed  friends  made  a  respectful  part  of  the 
company  at  family  meals.  Old  Maida  took  his  seat  gravely 
at  his  master's  elbow,  looking  up  wistfully  into  his  eyes, 
while  Finette,  the  pet  spaniel,  took  her  seat  by  Mrs.  Scott. 
Besides  the  dogs  in  attendance,  a  large  gray  cat  also  took 


\J2  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS    DOGS. 

her  seat  near  her  master,  and  was  presented  from  time  to 
time  with  bits  from  the  table.  Puss,  it  appears,  was  a 
great  favorite  both  with  master  and  mistress,  and  slept  in 
their  room  at  night ;  and  Scott  laughingly  said  that  one 
of  the  least  wise  parts  of  the  family  arrangement  was  the 
leaving  the  window  open  at  night  for  puss  to  go  in  and 
out.  The  cat  assumed  a  sort  of  supremacy  among  the 
quadrupeds,  sitting  in  state  in  Scott's  arm-chair,  and  occa- 
sionally stationing  himself  on  a  chair  beside  the  door,  as 
if  to  review  his  subjects  as  they  passed,  giving  each  dog 
a  cuff  on  the  ears  as  he  went  by.  This  clapper-clawing 
was  always  amiably  taken.  It  appeared  to  be  in  fact  a 
mere  act  of  sovereignty  on  the  part  of  Grimalkin,  to  remind 
the  others  of  their  vassalage,  to  which  they  cheerfully  sub- 
mitted. Perfect  harmony  prevailed  between  old  puss  and 
her  subjects,  and  they  would  all  sleep  contentedly  together 
in  the  sunshine. 

Scott  once  said,  the  only  trouble  about  having  a  dog 
was  that  he  must  die  ;  but  he  said,  it  was  better  to  have 
them  die  in  eight  or  nine  years,  than  to  go  on  loving 
them  for  twenty  or  thirty,  and  then  have  them  die. 

Scott  lived  to  lose  many  of  his  favorites,  that  were 
buried  with  funeral  honors,  and  had  monuments  erected 
over  them,  which  form  some  of  the  prettiest  ornaments  of 
Abbotsford.  When  we  visited  the  place,  one  of  the  first, 
objects  we  saw  in  the  front  yard  near  the  door  was  the 


SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS    DOGS.  1/3 

tomb  of  old  Maida,  over  which  is  sculptured  the  image  of 
a  beautiful  hound,  with  this  inscription,  which  you  may 
translate  if  you  like :  — 

"  Maidae  marmorea  dormis,  sub  imagine 
Maida, 
Ad  januam  domini ;  sit  tibi  terra  levis. 

Or,  if  you  don't  want  the  trouble  of  translating  it,  Mas- 
ter Freddy,  I  would  do  it  thus :  — 

"At  thy  lord's  door,  in  slumbers  light  and  blest, 
Maida,  beneath  this  marble  Maida  rest. 
Light  lie  the  turf  upon  thy  gentle  breast." 

Washington  Irving  says  that  in  one  of  his  morning 
rambles  he  came  upon  a  curious  old  Gothic  monument, 
on  which  was  inscribed  in  Gothic  characters, 

"Cy  git  le  preux  Percy," 
(Here  lies  the  brave  Percy,) 

and  asking  Scott  what  it  was,  he  replied,  "O,  only  one  of 
my  fooleries,"  —  and  afterwards  Irving  found  it  was  the 
grave  of  a  favorite  greyhound. 

Now,  certainly,  Master  Freddy,  you  must  see  in  all  this 
that  you  have  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  of  the  world  to 
bear  you  out  in  thinking  a  deal  of  dogs. 

But  I  have  still  another  instance.  The  great  rival  poet 
to  Scott  was  Lord  Byron ;  not  so  good  or  so  wise  a  man 
by  many  degrees,  but  very  celebrated  in  his  day.  He  also 


1/4  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS   DOGS. 

had  a  four-footed  friend,  a  Newfoundland,  called  Boatswain, 
which  he  loved  tenderly,  and  whose  elegant  monument  now 
forms  one  of  the  principal  ornaments  of  the  garden  of 
Newstead  Abbey,  and  upon  it  may  be  read  this  inscrip- 
tion :  — 

"Near  this  spot 

Are  deposited  the  remains  of  one 

Who  possessed  beauty  without  vanity, 

Strength  without  insolence, 

Courage  without  ferocity, 

And  all  the  virtues  of  man  without  his  vices. 

This  praise,  which  would  be  unmeaning  flattery 

If  inscribed  over  human  ashes, 
Is  but  a  just  tribute  to  the  memory  of 

BOATSWAIN,  a  dog, 

Who  was  born  at  Newfoundland,  May,  1803, 
And  died  at  Newstead  Abbey,  Nov.  18,  1808." 

On  the  other  side  of  the  monument  the  poet  inscribed 
these  lines  in  praise  of  dogs  in  general,  which  I  would 
recommend  you  to  show  to  any  of  the  despisers  of  dogs: — 

"  When  some  proud  son  of  man  returns  to  earth 
Unknown  to  glory,  but  upheld  by  birth, 
The  sculptor's  art  exhausts  the  pomp  of  woe, 
And  storied  urns  record  who  rests  below. 
But  the  poor  dog,  in  life  the  firmest  friend, 
The  first  to  welcome,  foremost  to  defend, 
Whose  honest  heart  is  still  his  master's  own, 
Who  labors,  fights,  lives,  breathes,  for  him  alone,  t 

Unhonored  falls,  unnoticed  all  his  worth, 
Denied  in  heaven  the  soul  he  held  on  earth. 


SIR   WALTER   SCOTT   AND    HIS   DOGS.  1/5 

While  man,  vain  insect !   hopes  to  be  forgiven, 
And  claims  himself  a  sole  exclusive  heaven ! 
Ye  who  perchance  behold  this  simple  urn, 
Pass  on,  it  honors  none  you  wish  to  mourn. 
To  mark  a  friend's  remains  these  stones  arise; 
I  never  knew  but  one,  —  and  here  he  lies." 

If  you  want  more  evidence  of  the  high  esteem  in  which 
dogs  are  held,  I  might  recommend  to  you  a  very  pretty 
dog  story  called  "  Rab  and  his  Friends,"  the  reading  of 
which  will  give  you  a  pleasant  hour.  Also  in  a  book 
called  "Spare  Hours,"  the  author  of  "Rab  and  his  Friends" 
gives  amusing  accounts  of  all  his  different  dogs,  which  I 
am  sure  you  would  be  pleased  to  read,  even  though  you 
find  many  long  words  in  it  which  you  cannot  understand. 

But  enough  has  been  given  to  show  you  that  in  the 
high  esteem  you  have  for  your  favorite,  and^m  your  deter- 
mination to  treat  him  as  a  dog  should  be  treated,  you  are 
sustained  by  the  very  best  authority. 


DO  my  dear  little  friends  want  to  hear  a  word  more 
about  our  country  neighbors  ?  Since  we  wrote  about 
them,  we  have  lived  in  the  same  place  more  than  a  year, 
and  perhaps  some  of  you  may  want  to  know  whether  old 
Unke  or  little  Cri-cri  have  ever  come  up  to  sit  under  the 
lily-leaves  by  the  fountain,  or  Master  Furry-toes,  the  flying 
squirrel,  has  amused  himself  in  pattering  about  the  young 
lady's  chamber  o'  nights  ?  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  our 
country  neighbors  have  entirely  lost  the  neighborly,  con- 
fiding spirit  that  they  had  when  we  first  came  and  settled 
in  the  woods. 


COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN.  177 

Old  Unke  has  distinguished  himself  on  moonlight  nights 
in  performing  bass  solos  in  a  very  deep,  heavy  voice,  down 
in  the  river,  but  he  has  never  hopped  his  way  back  into 
that  conservatory  from  which  he  was  disgracefully  turned 
out  at  the  point  of  Mr.  Fred's  cane.  He  has  contented 
himself  with  the  heavy  musical  performances  I  spoke  of, 
and  I  have  fancied  they  sounded  much  like  "Won't  come 
any  more,  —  won't  come  any  more,  —  won't  come  any  more  ! " 

Sometimes,  strolling  down  to  the  river,  we  have  seen  his 
solemn  green  spectacles  emerging  from  the  tall  water-grasses, 
as  he  sat  complacently  looking  about  him.  Near  by  him, 
spread  out  on  the  sunny  bottom  of  the  pool,  was  a  large 
flat-headed  water-snake,  with  a  dull  yellow-brown  back  and 
such  a  swelled  stomach  that  it  was  quite  evident  he  had 
been  making  his  breakfast  that  morning  by  swallowing  some 
unfortunate  neighbor  like  poor  little  Cri-cri.  This  trick  of 
swallowing  one's  lesser  neighbors  seems  to  prevail  greatly 
among  the  people  who  live  in  our  river.  Mr.  Water-snake 
makes  his  meal  on  little  Mr.  Frog,  and  Mr.  Bullfrog  fol- 
lows the  same  example.  It  seems  a  sad  state  of  things  ; 
but  then  I  suppose  all  animals  have  to  die  in  some  way 
or  other,  and  perhaps,  if  they  are  in  the  habit  of  seeing  it 
done,  it  may  appear  no  more  to  a  frog  to  expect  to  be 
swallowed  some  day,  than  it  may  to  some  of  us  to  die  of 
a  fever,  or  be  shot  in  battle,  as  many  a  brave  fellow  has 
been  of  late. 

12 


1/8  COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN. 

We  have  heard  not  a  word  from  the  woodchucks.  Ever 
since  we  violated  the  laws  of  woodland  hospitality  by  set- 
ting a  trap  for  their  poor  old  patriarch,  they  have  very 
justly  considered  us  as  bad  neighbors,  and  their  hole  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden  has  been  "to  let,"  and  nobody 
as  yet  has  ventured  to  take  it.  Our  friends  the  muskrats 
have  been  flourishing,  and  on  moonlight  nights  have  been 
swimming  about,  popping  up  the  tips  of  their  little  black 
noses  to  make  observations. 

But  latterly  a  great  commotion  has  been  made  among 
the  amphibious  tribes,  because  of  the  letting  down  of  the 
dam  which  kept  up  the  water  of  the  river,  and  made  it  a 
good,  full,  wide  river.  When  the  dam  was  torn  down  it 
became  a  little  miserable  stream,  flowing  through  a  wide 
field  of  muddy  bottom,  and  all  the  secrets  of  the  under- 
water were  disclosed.  The  white  and  yellow  water-lily  roots 
were  left  high  and  dry  up  in  the  mud,  and  all  the  musk- 
rat  holes  could  be  seen  plainer  than  ever  before ;  and  the 
other  day  Master  Charlie  brought  in  a  fish's  nest  which 
he  had  found  in  what  used  to  be  deep  water. 

"A  fish's  nest!"  says  little  Tom  ;  "I  did  n't  know  fishes 
made  nests."  But  they  do,  Tommy ;  that  is,  one  particular 
kind  of  fish  makes  a  nest  of  sticks  and  straws  and  twigs, 
plastered  together  with  some  kind  of  cement,  the  making 
of  which  is  a  family  secret.  It  lies  on  the  ground  like  a 
common  bird's-nest  turned  bottom  upward,  and  has  a  tiny 


COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS    AGAIN. 


179 


little  hole  in  the  side  for  a  door,  through  which  the  little 
fishes  swim  in  and  out. 

The  name  of  the  kind  of  fish  that  builds  this  nest  I  do 
not  know ;  and  if  the  water  had  not  been  drawn  off,  I 
should  not  have  known  that  we  had  any  such  fish  in  our 
river.  Where  we  found  ours  the  water  had  been  about 


l8O  COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN. 

five  feet  above  it.  Now,  Master  Tom,  if  you  want  to 
know  more  about  nest-building  fishes,  you  must  get  your 
papa  and  mamma  to  inquire  and  see  if  they  cannot  get 
you  some  of  the  little  books  on  fishes  and  aquariums  that 
have  been  published  lately.  I  remember  to  have  read  all 
about  these  nests  in  one  of  them,  but  I  do  not  remember 
either  the  name  of  the  book  or  the  name  of  the  fish,  and 
so  there  is  something  still  for  you  to  inquire  after. 

I  am  happy  to  say,  for  the  interest  of  the  water-lilies 
and  the  muskrats  and  the  fishes,  that  the  dam  has  only 
been  torn  down  from  our  river  for  the  purpose  of  making 
a  new  and  stronger  one,  and  that  by  and  by  the  water 
will  be  again  broad  and  deep  as  before,  and  all  the  water- 
people  can  then  go  on  with  their  housekeeping  just  as 
they  used  to  do,  —  only  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  one  fish 
family  will  miss  their  house,  and  have  to  build  a  new  one ; 
but  if  they  are  enterprising  fishes  they  will  perhaps  make 
some  improvements  that  will  make  the  new  house  better 
than  the  old. 

As  to  the  birds,  we  have  had  a  great  many  visits  from 
them.  Our  house  has  so  many  great  glass  windows,  and 
the  conservatory  windows  in  the  centre  of  it  being  always 
wide  open,  the  birds  seem  to  have  taken  it  for  a  piece  of 
out-doors,  and  flown  in.  The  difficulty  has  been,  that, 
after  they  had  got  in,  there  appeared  to  be  no  way  of 
making  them  understand  the  nature  of  glass,  and  wher- 


COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN.  l8l 

ever  they  saw  a  glass  window  they  fancied  they  could  fly 
through  ;  and  so,  taking  aim  hither  and  thither,  they  darted 
head  first  against  the  glass,  beating  and  bruising  their 
poor  little  heads  without  beating  in  any  more  knowledge 
than  they  had  before.  Many  a  poor  little  feather-head 
has  thus  fallen  a  victim  to  his  want  of  natural  philosophy, 
and  tired  himself  out  with  beating  against  window-panes, 
till  he  has  at  last  fallen  dead.  One  day  we  picked  up  no 
less  than  three  dead  birds  in  different  parts  of  the  house. 
Now  if  it  had  only  been  possible  to  enlighten  our  feathered 
friends  in  regard  to  the  fact  that  everything  that  is  trans- 
parent is  not  air,  we  would  have  summoned  a  bird  council 
in  our  conservatory,  and  explained  matters  to  them  at  once 
and  altogether.  As  it  is,  we  could  only  say,  "  Oh ! "  and 
"Ah!"  and  lament,  as  we  have  followed  one  poor  victim 
after  another  from  window  to  window,  and  seen  him 
flutter  and  beat  his  pretty  senseless  head  against  the  glass, 
frightened  to  death  at  all  our  attempts  to  help  him. 

As  to  the  humming-birds,  their  number  has  been  infinite. 
Just  back  of  the  conservatory  stands  an  immense,  high 
clump  of  scarlet  sage,  whose  brilliant  flowers  have  been 
like  a  light  shining  from  afar,  and  drawn  to  it  flocks  of 
these  little  creatures  ;  and  we  have  often  sat  watching  them 
as  they  put  their  long  bills  into  one  scarlet  tube  after 
another,  lifting  themselves  lightly  off  the  bush,  poising  a 
moment  in  mid-air,  and  then  dropping  out  of  sight. 


1 82  COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS    AGAIN. 

They  have  flown  into  the  conservatory  in  such  nnmbers 
that,  had  we  wished  to  act  over  again  the  dear  little  his- 
tory of  our  lost  pet,  Hum,  the  son  of  Buz,  we  should  have 
had  plenty  of  opportunities  to  do  it.  Humming-birds  have 
been  for  some  reason  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  wild  and 
untamable.  Our  experience  has  proved  that  they  are  the 
most  docile,  confiding  little  creatures,  and  the  most  dis- 
posed to  put  trust  in  us  human  beings  of  all  birds  in  the 
world. 

More  than  once  this  summer  has  some  little  captive  ex- 
hausted his  strength  flying  hither  and  thither  against  the 
great  roof  window  of  the  conservatory,  till  the  whole 
family  was  in  alarm  to  help.  The  Professor  himself  has 
left  his  books,  and  anxiously  flourished  a  long  cobweb 
broom  in  hopes  to  bring  the  little  wanderer  down  to  the 
level  of  open  windows,  while  every  other  member  of  the 
family  ran,  called,  made  suggestions,  and  gave  advice,  which 
all  ended  in  the  poor  little  fool's  falling  flat,  in  a  state  of 
utter  exhaustion,  and  being  picked  up  in  some  lady's 
pocket-handkerchief. 

Then  has  been  running  to  mix  sugar  and  water,  while 
the  little  crumb  of  a  bird  has  lain  in  an  apparent  swoon 
in  the  small  palm  of  some  fair  hand,  but  opening  occasion- 
ally one  eye,  and  then  the  other,  dreamily,  to  see  when 
the  sugar  and  water  was  coming,  and  gradually  showing 
more  and  more  signs  of  returning  life  as  it  appeared. 


COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN.  183 

Even  when  he  had  taken  his  drink  of  sugar  and  water, 
and  seemed  able  to  sit  up  in  his  warm  little  hollow,  he  has 
seemed  in  no  hurry  to  flee,  but  remained  tranquilly  look- 
ing about  him  for  some  moments,  till  all  of  a  sudden, 
with  one  whirr,  away  he  goes,  like  a  flying  morsel  of  green 
and  gold,  over  our  heads  —  into  the  air  —  into  the  tree- 
tops.  What  a  lovely  time  he  must  have  of  it ! 

One  rainy,  windy  day,  Miss  Jenny,  going  into  the  con- 
servatory, heard  a  plaintive  little  squeak,  and  found  a  poor 
humming-bird,  just  as  we  found  poor  little  Hum,  all  wet 
and  chilled,  and  bemoaning  himself,  as  he  sat  clinging 
tightly  upon  the  slenderest  twig  of  a  grape-vine.  She 
took  him  off,  wrapped  him  in  cotton,  and  put  him  in  a 
box  on  a  warm  shelf  over  the  kitchen  range.  After  a 
while  you  may  be  sure  there  was  a  pretty  fluttering  in 
the.  box.  Master  Hum  was  awake  and  wanted  to  be  at- 
tended to.  She  then  mixed  sugar  and  water,  and,  opening 
the  box,  offered  him  a  drop  on  her  finger,  which  he  licked 
off  with  his  long  tongue  as  knowingly  as  did  his  name- 
sake at  Rye  Beach.  After  letting  him  satisfy  his  appetite 
for  sugar  and  water,  as  the  rain  was  over  and  the  sun 
began  to  shine,  Miss  Jenny  took  him  to  the  door,  and 
away  he  flew. 

These  little  incidents  show  that  it  would  not  ever  be  a 
difficult  matter  to  tame  humming-birds,  —  only  they  cannot 
be  kept  in  cages ;  a  sunny  room  with  windows  defended 


1 84  COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN. 

by  mosquito-netting  would  be  the  only  proper  cage.  The 
humming-bird,  as  we  are  told  by  naturalists,  though  very 
fond  of  the  honey  of  flowers,  does  not  live  on  it  entirely, 
or  even  principally.  It  is  in  fact  a  little  fly-catcher,  and  lives 
on  small  insects  ;  and  a  humming-bird  never  can  be  kept 
healthy  for  any  length  of  time  in  a  room  that  does  not 
admit  insects  enough  to  furnish  him  a  living.  So  you  see 
it  is  not  merely  toads,  and  water-snakes,  and  such  homely 
creatures,  that  live  by  eating  other  living  beings,  —  but 
even  the  fairy-like  and  brilliant  humming-bird. 

The  autumn  months  are  now  coming  on  (for  it  is  Octo- 
ber while  I  write),  —  the  flowers  are  dying  night  by  night 
as  the  frosts  grow  heavier,  —  the  squirrels  are  racing  about, 
full  of  business,  getting  in  their  winter's  supply  of  nuts ; 
everything  now  is  active  and  busy  among  our  country 
neighbors.  In  a  cottage  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
us,  a  whole  family  of  squirrels  have  made  the  discovery 
that  a  house  is  warmer  in  winter  than  the  best  hollow 
tree,  and  so  have  gone  in  to  a  chink  between  the  walls, 
where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squirrel  can  often  be  heard  late  at 
night  chattering  and  making  quite  a  family  fuss  about  the 
arrangement  of  their  household  goods  for  the  coming  sea- 
son. This  is  all  the  news  about  the  furry  people  that  I 
have  to  give  you.  The  flying  squirrel  I  have  not  yet 
heard  from, — perhaps  he  will  appear  yet  as  the  weather 
gets  colder. 


COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS   AGAIN.  185 

Old  Master  Boohoo,  the  owl,  sometimes  goes  on  at  such 
a  rate  on  moonlight  nights  in  the  great  chestnut-trees  that 
overhang  the  river,  that,  if  you  did  not  know  better,  you 
might  think  yourself  miles  deep  in  the  heart  of  a  sombre 
forest,  instead  of  being  within  two  squares'  walk  of  the 
city  lamps.  We  never  yet  have  caught  a  fair  sight  of 
him.  At  the  cottage  we  speak  of,  the  chestnut-trees  are 
very  tall,  and  come  close  to  the  upper  windows ;  and  one 
night  a  fair  maiden,  going  up  to  bed,  was  startled  by  a 
pair  of  great  round  eyes  looking  into  her  window.  It  was 
one  of  the  Boohoo  family,  who  had  been  taken  with  a  fit 
of  grave  curiosity  about  what  went  on  inside  the  cottage, 
and  so  set  himself  to  observe.  We  have  never  been  able 
to  return  the  compliment  by  looking  into  their  housekeep- 
ing, as  their  nests  are  very  high  up  in  the  hollows  of  old 
trees,  where  we  should  not  be  likely  to  get  at  them. 

If  we  hear  anything  more  from  any  of  these  neighbors 
of  ours,  we  will  let  you  know.  We  have  all  the  afternoon 
been  hearing  a  great  screaming  among  the  jays  in  the 
woods  hard  by,  and  I  think  we  must  go  out  and  see 
what  is  the  matter.  So  good  by. 


THE     END. 


Cambridge  :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


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6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS. 

Renewls  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


FEB 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720-6000 


